


hallelujah

by glitterprincee



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Job, Body Worship, Car Sex, Choking, Come play, Crying, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Dry Humping, Fingering, Gunplay, Hitchhiker AU, Implied dom/sub, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Panic Attack, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, Violence, date rape drugs, its really pathetic, more tags will be added, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterprincee/pseuds/glitterprincee
Summary: When he went under, he thought he had anything he could ever need. A loving wife, a child, a home. And his partner, Shane. His best friend. At least, that's what he thought.  He'd never imagined waking up to a world where nothing made sense, where nothing was the way it was before.He pulled out from his driveway, away from his home and ran. And ran. And that’s how he ended up here, in the middle Arizona on some vacant back road, at two in the morning, pulling over to pick up a hitchhiker.THIS STORY IS ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE





	1. rick

**Author's Note:**

> just to preface this - this work was almost a Steve and Bucky fic. their names were written in and everything, however along the way i fell in love with Rick and Negan and i decided that this fic would be better suited for them. 
> 
> WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION AND AT YOUR OWN RISK. - tags will be added as the story progresses, otherwise they would spoil the plot.
> 
> i love Rick and Negan, but Negan is a pyscho.

He hadn’t meant for things to spiral out of control like this. He had always been so motivated, so determined to leave his mark on the world. But ever since recovering from his injury, Rick just hasn’t been the same. Heaven knows he had seen some messed up things while in his line of duty, they still haunt him every time he closes his eyes at night. When he went under, he thought he had anything he could ever need. A loving wife, a child, a home. And his partner, Shane. His best friend. At least, that's what he thought. He'd never imagined waking up to a world where nothing made sense, where nothing was the way it was before. In an instant, everything he ever imagined was ripped from beneath him from the people he'd come to love the most. His best friend had taken his wife from him, taken his happiness and his family all without a visible hint of remorse. The look in his eyes as he told Rick that they thought he was dead, it was void of sympathy. If anything it was smug, a barely concealed gloat over bringing Rick’s happy little world to ruin. And Lori, he couldn't even look her in the eyes. When she tried to reach for him, he pulled back. When she tried to explain the comfort she had found in Shane, he felt his stomach drop. He hadn't even stayed to hear Shane's empty laugh as he bolted through the front door, the call of “Oh, Rick, c'mon, where are ya goin? I'm sure we could work something out!” following him to his car. He pulled out from his driveway, away from his home and ran. And ran. And that’s how he ended up here, in the middle Arizona on some vacant back road, at two in the morning, pulling over to pick up a hitchhiker.

  
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was the large quantity of caffeine running through his veins that made Rick slow his speed for this man. This man, wandering this empty road at two in the morning with a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes and a promising beard complementing the rugged, masculine look he had going on. Rick dimmed his lights and swerved closer to the dirt on the side of the road before coming to a complete stop, rolling down the passenger side window, and cutting the engine.

  
“Hey, man, it’s pretty late to be out here at night all by yourself. Is there somewhere you need to be?” Rick politely asked, leaning over a bit to talk out the window.

  
The stranger looked up from beneath his hat, eyes barely visible in the dark.

  
“Just the nearest town over would be great.” He adjusted the duffle bag on his shoulder. “My bike broke down a few miles back, damn thing.” A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Guess I really shoulda got that thing fixed before coming all the way out here.”

  
Rick nodded sympathetically. “Well, the closest town is about another thirty minutes, and I’m sure you don’t want to walk that. How about you jump in and maybe there will be someone in town to fix up that bike of yours.”

  
He moved to unlock the passenger door and the stranger flashed Rick a perfect, white smile that shone even in the darkness. “Why, thank ya,” he drawled as he slid into the seat and threw the duffle bag under his feet. Rick watched intently as the stranger removed the baseball cap, black hair slicked back and shining with pomade. He almost looked too put together to be a hitchhiker. The stranger fidgeted for a moment, patting his pockets then diving into his duffle bag, making quite a show of sifting through his things. He then turned to Rick, pushing his perfectly styled hair back, making sure the stray pieces were secured again before flashing him another flawless smile as he said, “You wouldn’t happen to have a light on ya, would ya? I swore I had one in my pocket earlier today. I dunno where it could’ve gone,” he chuckled a little, out of embarrassment.

  
Rick returned the small smile, shaking his head ruefully. “Sorry, I haven’t got one on me. I don't smoke.”

  
The stranger just shrugged, that sharp, perfect smile appearing again as he turned away from Rick again.

  
“Not a problem, man. Just figured maybe you’d have one layin’ around.” He paused. “If you did smoke.”

  
Rick eyed him inconspicuously as he started the engine again, grateful for the dark so that the stranger couldn’t see the curiosity crossing his face. There was more fidgeting in the passenger seat, the stranger pulling open his bag and rummaging through the contents without a care for privacy. A moment later, the movements stopped and the stranger had a cigarette poised between his teeth and was twirling a lighter around in his hand.

  
“Found it,” he announced happily around the cigarette in his mouth.

  
“Congratulations,” Rick replied dryly.

  
The stranger snorted around his cigarette. “ You got a great sense of humor on you there,” he said back.

  
When Rick didn't reply, the stranger lit the cigarette, the light at the end catching on the white in his salt and pepper beard. The smoke billowed around the front of the car, clouding the windshield and Rick’s lungs. He shot the stranger an annoyed glance as he coughed to clear his lungs and cracked the window. A deep laugh rumbled from the stranger's chest.

  
“My apologies. I supposed I should've asked if it was alright with you.” His smile shone through the smoke.

  
“Yeah, well…” Rick trailed off as he turned his headlights back on and began pulling back onto the road.

  
The stranger glanced at Rick out of the corner of his eye, a hard glint roaming over Rick’s form. It was nearly unsetting the way he looked at the other man, like he was a puzzle he just couldn’t figure out. A little crease formed between the stranger’s eyebrows as he studied Rick. Rick swore if the stranger stared any harder, he would burn holes into the side of his face. Vaguely, Rick was starting to register how much of a bad idea this was. As the stranger removed his cigarette from his lips and was opening his mouth to say something else, Rick cleared his throat and said, “Sure, you can smoke in here, now that you've already begun.”

  
The stranger closed his mouth, head cocked to the side as he weighed the sarcasm in Rick’s statement, then opened it again as if to say something as equally as sarcastic, but closed it, thinking better of it. He let another smirk play on the corner of his mouth before raising the cigarette back to his lips and saying, “Thanks. ‘Preciate it.”

  
Rick nodded to him, keeping his eyes on the road, but remaining acutely aware of the stranger’s presence next to him. He heard more fidgeting as the man shifted to throw the cigarette butt out the window and move to make himself comfortable. It took him a moment to figure out how to get the seat to recline, but after jolting backwards into a reclining position he just laughed quietly to himself under his breath before turning on his side, his back to Rick, letting himself be lulled to sleep by the movement of the car. Rick listened to the stranger’s breathing even out, only daring to risk a glance out of his peripheral vision when he was sure that the other man was fully asleep. He leaned back into the headrest with much more force than necessary, a dull thud resulting from the contact. He had just picked up a random hitchhiker with perfect hair, gelled with precision, an unnerving smile, and a nicotine addiction. He knew better than this, he was smarter than this. He could hear Shane’s voice in his head, mocking him, saying with a shake of his head, _damn Rick, I knew you were stupid, but this? This is a whole other level of stupid._ He huffed angrily, clearing the memory of his former friend in his mind. Hesitantly he took a real look at the stranger, eyes watching the rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Rick took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the road. He gripped the wheel with so much force that it groaned.

  
“I am so fucked,” he muttered before pushing down on the pedal as he continued to zoom down the empty road at 100 miles per hour, heart thudding maddeningly in his chest.

  
~

  
It was exactly 3:42 am by the time Rick pulled into the motel parking lot. His car grumbled to a stop in front of the lobby. Rick sighed softly and took a glance around, the neon red of the vacancy sign lighting up the pavement. He could barely make out the cheap wallpaper decorating the interior of the rooms, an orange glow casting a warm glow about the walls, spilling out onto the second story walkway. The place looked sleazy, but not the worst place he'd ever slept in. One night wouldn't be so bad. There was still the question, however, of what to do with the anonymous hitchhiker still sleeping in the passenger seat.

  
He glanced to his right and observed the man, his back still facing Rick. Rick stared at him curiously for a moment, unsure of what to do. Biting the corner of his lip, Rick gently touched the man’s shoulder and shook him. The man let out a shaky exhale and an unintelligible grumble, but otherwise didn't seem to wake. Rick shook him harder.

  
“Hey, um,” _what am I even supposed to call this guy?_ “-uh, mister? You gotta wake up, we've stopped.”

  
“Jesus, Mary ‘nd fucking Joseph,” the man said, sleep slurring his speech. He arched his back as he stretched, leather jacket squeaking in protest.

  
“We're in town,” Rick reiterated.

  
The man blinked at him slowly, like Rick had spoken another language. He opened his mouth and yawned, blowing hot, stale breath into Rick’s face unapologetically. The man squinted at the dash as Rick huffed, moving out of his personal space to get out of the car and take a breath of fresh air.

  
“Well, fuck me, it's 3:44. Thought you said town was only thirty minutes away?” the man said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before fixing them on Rick.

  
Rick stretched his legs before leaning back into the car, hands braced on the top of the car. “Yeah, well, I got a little bit turned around,” he explained. “But we're here now.”

  
The man raised his eyebrows, creating little wrinkles in his forehead. “It would appear so.” The man flicked his eyes upwards to meet Rick’s, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “Guessing you’re not from around here, are you? Considering that you got,” he made a spinning motion with his finger, “turned around.”

  
Rick reached into the car to take the keys out of the ignition, feeling the heat of the man’s gaze on him. The man poked his tongue into his cheek at Rick’s silence. He leaned forward, crowding into Rick’s space again as he prodded, “I’d like to know where you’re from.” He grinned. “You’ve got a sweet southern drawl goin’ there. Alabama maybe? Tennessee? C’mon, don’t leave me in suspense!”

  
Rick pulled back, coming to stand outside the car again. “I’m not from anywhere important,” he said, stepping out of the car and slamming it shut, adding a finality to the conversation.

  
Rick could hear the man chuckle as the passenger side door opened. The man mirrored his action, slinging his duffle bag across his shoulder as he shut the door and placed his hands atop the car. He caught Rick's eyes and _oh_ , brown eyes were piercing him with an intense stare. Rick’s breath was pushed out of him in a rush as he stared back and felt heat rush to his cheeks. The glare was invasive, probing. The man smirked. Hurriedly, Rick busied himself with grabbing his suitcase from the backseat of his car as he tried not to react to the man tracing his movement with his eyes. When he set his bag on the ground, the man hadn't moved from his position, except that his elbow was propping his head up, his hand now cradling his cheek, eyes fixed back on Rick’s with something akin to amusement in them. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  
Rick cleared his throat, shifting slightly, returning the man's gaze. Neither of them spoke, the man just looking at him intently, as if he were a great mystery. Rick gripped the keys tighter in his hand, uncomfortable with the man’s gaze, with the eyes that were trying to stare into his soul. Rick figured that it was time to be rid of him as soon as possible.

  
“So, this is the town,” Rick began, unsure of how to go about ridding himself of the man. He tapped the top of his car, meeting the man’s eyes. The man gave an affirming grunt, but otherwise didn't speak. Rick squared his shoulders, ready to to be more direct, meeting the man’s intense gaze with his own. “This is as far as I said I would take you. Good luck on your travels.” And that was all.

  
He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and turned away from the man, but stopped abruptly as the stranger let out a low whistle.

  
“This doesn’t seem like much of a town to me.” he drawled, nonchalance coloring his tone. “Emptier than a biker’s ballsack after a run in behind the gas station, if you catch my meaning.” His laugh at his own joke was sharp and wicked.

  
Rick turned back to face the man, the man observing his surroundings with eyes full of amusement. His eyes fixed back on Rick, that smirk pulling at the corners of his lips again.  
The man leaned more heavily against the car as he said, “Doesn't seem to be anything around for miles, my friend. How am I supposed to get my bike fixed and be on my way if there's nobody to do that for me?”

  
Rick exhaled heavily, his brows furrowing because _damn this guy just can't take a hint_. He opened his mouth to reiterate to the man that, yes, this is indeed the town, and this is indeed as far as he is willing to take him, when the man’s eyes light up and the smirk turned into a full on grin.

  
“I'll just spend the night here and we can go poke around this place tomorrow and see if there's anyone who can fix my bike,” he said with such assuredness that it made Rick choke back his response.

  
“No, I don't think that's-” Rick began.

  
The man only smiled wider, slamming his hands down on the hood of Rick's car and pushing off it. “It's perfect.” He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and started to walk towards the entrance, leaving Rick with a slightly horrified expression on his face as he added with a wink, “You can thank me later.” When the man realized that Rick wasn't following, he casually looked over his shoulder, eyes glinting with mirth.

  
“You comin’ or what?”

  
“No, I’m - you can’t spend the night, I don’t even know your name,” Rick protested, feebly grasping at straws in a desperate attempt to dissuade the man from this incredibly reckless situation.

  
“It's Negan."

  
Rick sighed in exasperation, hand settled low on his hip as he gauged how to proceed in this conversation because for one, that’s not the response he was expecting, and two, what kind of a name is ‘Negan'?

  
“An introduction is only complete when both sides participate,” the man - Negan - said, making a sweeping gesture as if to prompt Rick into giving his name.

  
When Rick shuffled and steeled his gaze, the man tilted his head to the side again, eyes full of curiosity. The two stared at each other until the man abruptly jolted to the side as he said, “Well, if you're not going to tell me, Mr.,” the man reached into his back pants pocket, pulled out a small black wallet, and opened it, looking into it with unnecessary interest, “Rick Grimes, I guess we’ll just have to get better acquainted later on.” The man grinned again, all teeth, glinting pale pink as the neon lights reflected off them.

  
Now, Rick was nervous. He quickly closed the gap between the two of them, snatching his wallet from the man’s hand.

  
“How did you get ahold of this?” He questioned, his sheriff instincts kicking in. His voice was hard. But the man didn’t even flinch. If anything his smile grew wider.

  
“You left it on the dash in the car.” The man lowered his voice.”Better keep an eye on that. You never know what kind of people are out there. A charming, southern man like yourself could get taken advantage of.”

  
Before Rick could reply, Negan turned back around and strode into the lobby, not sparing Rick a second glance this time. Rick stared at his retreating back wondering to himself how on earth his life had ever come to this. He clenched his keys tightly in his hand, hard enough that there would be indents left on his palm.

  
“Come on, Grimes,” he muttered aloud to himself, rolling his eyes up to the heavens. “You can handle this guy.”

  
Bracing himself, his gripped the handle of his suitcase and followed the man into the lobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully i didn't miss any of the name changes, yikes. having Steve or Bucky randomly appearing in this story would be embarrassing 
> 
> come see me on tumblr @deadairhostage


	2. rick

To say this motel was sleazy was an understatement. Immediately as Rick walked in, a pungent smell of Lysol and decaying plant life hit him and his face wrinkled up into a shocked, slightly disgusted expression. The man - Negan, he has to remind himself - ahead of him graciously held the door open, face broken into an ever charming smile as if he hadn't smelled a thing but roses and fresh grass after the rain. Rick offered him a small smile of gratitude, but it ended up more like a grimace as he wheeled the suitcase behind him, surveying the lobby as he approached the front desk. It could've been a Marriott, if there wasn't sunken thrift store furniture laying about and peeling wallpaper and missing tiles from the ceiling. Not to mention the less than friendly receptionist looking at him from over the top of her glasses, clearly bored and unamused.

  
Rick pulled up to a stop at the counter, resting an elbow on the surface. The woman tilted her gaze up in an imperceptible manner to continue to pierce Rick with an unnervingly judgmental stare. She lazily shifted her gaze over to Negan when he came to the counter, standing awfully close to Rick. He flashed her another blinding grin. She sniffed indifferently.

  
“Uh, I’d like one-” Rick began before Negan quieted him by placing a hand on the small of his back and turning his smile onto him instead of the receptionist, complete with dimples and lacking the usual sharpness.

  
“We'd like one room, please.” Rick blinked in surprise and Negan just smiled at him like there was nothing wrong. Rick continued to gape as Negan turned to face the woman, keeping his hand firmly on the small of Rick's back. “We'd like two extra bottles of shampoo sent up as well, but just one room. Ain't that right, sugar?”

  
“No-” Rick couldn't even finish fumbling around his sentence before the receptionist slammed a room key down on the counter, prompting the end of Rick’s attempt at explaining the truth and Negan’s pleased smile.

  
“It's $95 a night,” the woman gruffed. She fixed them both with a glare before adding as an afterthought, “And any damages will be billed directly to your charge. That includes any misuse of property, strange stains…”

  
Rick tried again. “No, now wait a minute, miss, you’ve got the wron-”

  
Negan snatched up the keys, smiling still pleasantly and easily, and placed a crisp $100 bill on the counter where the keys previously rested.

  
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, already grabbing the handle of Rick's luggage and guiding him back outside by the small of his back. “Keep the change.” He winked back at the receptionist. Her expression remained unmoved. “And don't forget those shampoos, honey,” he added as an afterthought before maneuvering Rick out the door and then following closely behind him, the door shutting behind them with a ding.

  
Rick huffed in the dry, Arizona air before fixing an absolutely murderous glare on Negan.  
“What the _hell_ was that?” He growled, fists curling and uncurling at his sides. Negan merely cocked his head to the side, not at all confused, if anything just amused.

  
“I just saved us $100, man, like I said, you can thank me later,” he smirked, readjusting his duffle bag before studying the key in his hand. “Maybe pay me back too.”

  
“‘ _Sugar_ ’?” Rick said, feeling his cheeks flush. “Look, I don't know what you're getting at, but I’m-”

  
Negan made a delighted sound and looked up from intently studying the keys as he announced, “We’re in room 26, that's just around the corner.” It's like he hadn't even heard Rick. He tilted his head to the side again, glancing Rick up and down, a small smirk playing at his lips. “C’mon, cowboy.”

  
Rick sputtered indignantly as he watched the man turn on his heel and began making his way to the stairs leading to room 26. Rick stood in the parking lot, watching the neon sign flicker on and off, brightening then darkening the pavement. It wouldn't take much for him to just walk back into the lobby and explain the truth to the receptionist, not that it would really matter to her, and simply ask for his own room, maybe on the opposite side of the motel from this man. This man who had compelled him to stop his car and pick him up from the side of the road. This man who had convinced him to take him into town tomorrow to see if someone could fix his bike. This man who had lead the receptionist to believe that he and Rick were in a _relationship_ for the sake of getting a cheaper deal. The whole of the situation was bizarre and red flags were flying up left and right because regular hitchhikers don't _do this_...right? The question remained, however: what exactly _is_ this? Rick couldn't put a finger on what was unsettling about the man, other than that he seemed incredibly charming. So charming that he had this hold over Rick making it impossible to get away, a way of speaking that could get him anything he wanted before Rick could even refute it. That in itself should've been enough to get Rick putting his suitcase back in the rear of his car, pulling out of the motel parking lot, and getting more familiar with the Arizona terrain while putting miles and miles between him and the man. He shouldn't be following this man to room 26. He shouldn't be in close proximity with him. He shouldn't have picked him up in the first place. And it really wouldn't be difficult at all to just leave the man sitting in the room, $100 short with no ride. So why couldn't Rick just do it?

  
Rick glared at the faulty vacancy sign, as though it was the answer and the cause to his problem. And even though the signs were clearly telling him to get the hell out of there, he gripped the handle of the suitcase, and once again followed the man. He was the sheriff, after all. This was nothing he couldn’t handle.


	3. negan

Negan turned the key in the lock and leaned his back against the back of the door, hand blindly feeling against the wall for the light switch. He grinned triumphantly when the lights came on. He knew that Rick hadn't been following him, but was sure that he would be up after he got over the moral crisis he seemed to be having. It was amusing. Negan dropped his duffle bag on the floor between the door and the frame, keeping it wedged open so that he wouldn't have to get back up to open the door when Rick found his balls and decided to join him.

  
The lights cast a hazy orange glow over the peeling, floral wallpaper. The green carpet had worrying stains on it; Negan shook his head and silently vowed not to take his socks off. The tv, a model from circa 2004, was situated across from, hm, a single queen sized bed. He chuckled to himself over that fact. Rick would probably have to go back outside and glare at the vacancy sign a little more after realizing that there was only one bed. It was amusing. The bathroom was located directly off the bedroom, a small space with cracked tiles in the shower and mold growing between them. Someone had left their bar of soap on the sink, hair wrapping itself around it.

  
Negan stuck his tongue out at the bathroom, nose wrinkling in disgust. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly and sighed as he said, “All this paradise for only $95, what a steal.”  
That's when he heard Rick open the door, the creak of the hinges reverberating off the walls. Negan turned away from the bathroom and moved to help Rick get his suitcase inside without tripping over his duffle bag.

  
“Hey now, don’t worry, I got this,” Negan huffed, grabbing Rick’s suitcase with his right hand and hoisting his duffle onto the bed with his left. He set the suitcase at the foot of the bed, then turned to look at Rick, who was wearing a pained expression, but was obviously trying to hide it. Negan bit back the urge to laugh because it _was_ amusing.

  
“There's one only bed,” Rick said, staring pointedly at the bed and not Negan.  
Negan flopped onto it, pushing his duffle bag off the side to make room. “It ain't gonna bite ya, Rick. It’s just a bed,” he smirked, running a hand through his hair, which was a mistake because, _ew_ dried out pomade wasn’t pleasant after a couple days of not being washed out.

  
“No, this isn’t - I’m going back down there,” Rick declared, scrubbing a hand down his face, a pink flush creeping down his neck and sweeping under the collar of his shirt. He opened his mouth to say more, squaring his stance, but Negan cut him off with the wave of his hand.

  
“Look, you’re not offending me or nothin’. Hell, you could always take the bathtub,” Negan laughed. “Though I would really have to advise against that, seeing as there’s a science project growin’ on the tiles in there.” Negan wrinkled his nose again. Rick had since taken his eyes off the bed and was looking at the door. “And then there's the floor, but I gotta feelin’ some freaky shit made those stains and I am not about to put my head anywhere near that.” He glanced at Rick. “Come to think of it, you don't seem like that type of guy either.”

  
That caught Rick’s attention and he turned his head back to Negan. He turned his body to face Negan fully, hands slung low on his hips. Then he looked down at the bed again. Then back to Negan like he couldn't make up his mind. The way Rick was nervous flitting back and forth between the bed and Negan was slightly unsettling, but more than that, it was interesting. Rick’s whole body language screamed distrust. He hadn't made an attempt to speak again either, and _damn this guy has some skeletons in his closet_. Negan huffed and hauled himself off the bed, gesturing at it politely. Rick's eyes landed on him and stayed on him. Finally.

  
“Take it or leave it, I'm not one to push. Either way, I’m getting my money's worth. Sugar.”

  
He sauntered off to the bathroom and shut the door loudly behind him. He chuckled to himself, imagining Rick’s face screwed up in confusion at the little pet name he threw in. It was actually quite precious. He stared at his own reflection in the grimy mirror as he gripped the sink, his face distorted by the cracks running through it. The playful mirth that had danced in his eyes while he spoke to Rick was gone, replaced by a calculating stare. His eyes flashed a dangerously as he regarded himself carefully in the mirror. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he absentmindedly noticed that his beard had grown considerably thicker in the last few days and _god damn my hair looks like shit._ He figured that he might as well clean himself up a bit, make himself look presentable, and maybe take the edge off his current living situation with Rick, maybe encourage him to open up a little bit. Rick. Rick Grimes. Negan repeated his name over in his mind. Rick, in all his rugged, southern charm glory. Holy hell, it had been a long time since Negan had come across a man that made him want in such a way that he felt nearly consumed by it. He wanted so much all at once that he could hardly keep his thoughts straight. The way that Rick looked at him, with a wary curiosity, an intense stare that clearly says _can I trust you?_ The way Rick looked at him made Negan want to give him a reason to stop being wary and trust him, but he had a feeling Rick wouldn't give him the time of day. He's not an idiot, he's seen a lot of people and done a lot of things and he can recognize a scared animal when he sees it. Rick looked about ready to bolt. And Negan had to find a way to ensnare him, find a way to make him stay.

  
The sound of shuffling around in the other room and a suitcase being unzipped brought Negan out of his thoughts. He debated whether or not he should go back out there talk to Rick again, maybe try to soothe the situation. Negan stared at the door for a few solid seconds before deciding against it, going for the shower instead. Sure Rick had given him a ride, but Negan had paid for the room, and that was the extent to which he owed Rick anything.

  
Negan was about to step under the warm stream of water when there was a soft knock at the door.

  
“Occupied,” Negan sing-songed in reply.

  
“Negan,” he faintly heard Rick say flatly from behind the door. Negan smiled, but didn't say anything, waiting for Rick to finish his sentence, gesturing for him to get on with it even though he knew that Rick couldn't see him. “I just wanted to say that I decided to go to bed.” Another pause. “In the bed. Um, I'll leave you the side closest to the bathroom, if that's fine with you.” Negan heard Rick shuffle away from the door, then quickly stumble back to say “good night” as an afterthought, and quickly retreat from the door again.

  
Negan snorted. Now that was really precious, he thought as he stepped into the shower and let the water, which turned out to actually be lukewarm, run in rivers down his body. When he closed his eyes, he imagined Rick outside the door with that blush high on his cheeks and sweeping beneath his collar like it did when he realized that there was only one bed. Negan wondered offhandedly just how far down that blush traveled. He imagined it disappearing beneath Rick's waistband with a smirk.

  
The shower was over quicker than he would've liked, the water going cold within three minutes of him stepping in. He stepped out, toweling himself down with one of the motel towels quickly because god knows what had been mopped up with those things. Hair still damp and dripping slightly, he went to put his white undershirt back on, but took one sniff of it, shook his head, and promptly tossed it into the sink.

  
Negan wrapped a towel around his waist, disgusted that the thing was touching his junk, but didn't want to startle Rick by walking out completely nude, as much fun as that would be. As he turned the handle, he wondered if the motel had a laundromat and what ungodly price they would charge him to wash his clothes. He opened his mouth to ask if Rick could phone down to the front desk for him and ask, but he found the man curled on his side, sound asleep and snoring softly. Negan barely suppressed a laugh because it hadn't even been 10 minutes since Rick was fumbling for words at the bathroom door, the guy must really be exhausted. It was a little sweet, actually, to see such a rugged, masculine man under the covers, curled up tightly, trying to make himself as small as possible. He felt something bloom in his chest at the sight. Negan cocked his head to the side, moving closer to the bed to get a better look. Rick did look a little smaller, but not much. He mostly looked troubled though, his brows slightly furrowed, even in his sleep.

  
Negan gripped the towel around his waist to keep it from falling and carefully lowered himself onto the bed to keep it from jostling too much and waking Rick. He swung his legs onto the bed and shifted closer to Rick's sleeping form, leaning over his shoulder to peer down at his sleeping face. And good god did he want. Rick's eyelashes fanned over his face, casting shadows across the tops of his cheekbones. His lips were flush and pink and slightly parted as soft snores escaped them. His curly brown hair was flopped haphazardly across his forehead and it made Negan want to run his fingers through it and grip and guide Rick's neck back so he could marvel at his throat.

  
He studied Rick intently until he lost track of time, mapping out his features and synching his own breaths with the sleeping man’s. Negan stared and stared and stared until his eyes were burning from exhaustion and the faintest rays of sunlight were peeking over the horizon. He rifled through his duffle bag, pulled on the first pair of boxers he fished out, and slid underneath the covers. At first, he kept a respectable distance away from Rick, keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling. But soon his eyes wandered over to Rick again, following the rise and fall of his back, and he wet his lips. Negan laughed at God’s cruel joke, placing a beautiful man mere inches from his reach. Negan shifted closer to Rick and felt the heat radiating off him. The man was like a furnace. I'm cold, Negan thought as he glanced down at his half naked form, then back over at Rick's back. He probably shouldn't, but to hell with dignity and respect and whatever the shit God was trying to teach him. He shifts forward again, just enough to tuck himself behind Rick's form, molding his body to fit perfectly against Rick's, wrapping an arm around his slim waist. Negan holds his breath, waiting for Rick to wake up and freak out on him, but he doesn't. Instead, a hand comes up and holds onto Negan's, Rick pushing himself back into Negan's solid chest. Negan exhales quietly and noses Rick's hair. He smells like pine and gunpowder and sweat. Negan inhales deeper, closing his eyes, imagining Rick's face, and _aw hell, I might just have to keep this one._

  
~

  
Negan woke slowly, squinting his sensitive eyes against the sunlight streaming through the window. His mouth tasted like it had rusted over and was stuffed full of cotton balls. He smacked his lips together; they were dry and chapped. He groaned and shifted forward, pressing himself closer to Rick, or what he thought was Rick. He opened his eyes a bit wider and came to the realization that he not, in fact, holding Rick, but instead was holding a pillow that had been placed in his arms. Negan stared at the pillow like he had never seen one before in his life. There was no sign of Rick in the room, but his suitcase was still leaning against the wall, so Negan knew that he hadn't gone far. It was enough to calm the panicked beating of his heart. He glanced at the pillow out of the corner of his eyes, glaring at it, and threw it across the room. He heard a gratifying thud as it smacked against the window.

  
The sun was high in the sky, so Negan assumed it was at least noon, which made sense, considering that he finally went to sleep as the sun was coming up. Groggily, he rolled over, back facing the window, and stared at the time on the clock. 3:17 pm.

  
“Oh fuck,” Negan moaned, rolling his eyes back into his head. Usually, he never sleeps this late. His mind wandered back to last night, when he was nuzzling against Rick's back. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though it could make Rick reappear in his arms again. It couldn't.

  
Negan stared at the clock and watched the minutes go by, counting the seconds until the numbers would change again. All but three minutes had passed when the door to the room swung open. Negan craned his neck over his shoulder to see Rick taking up part of the doorway, balancing an orange juice in one hand and what appeared to be two muffins in the other. Rick's brow was furrowed like he was deep in concentration as he tried not to drop the food and successfully get inside the room, finally managing to shut the door with his hip. Negan quickly laid his head back down on the pillow, sure that Rick hadn't seen him looking, and smoothed out his features to feign sleep. He heard Rick exhale behind him, he could feel the weight of Rick's gaze on his back. Just when Negan felt as though he couldn't keep up the facade any longer, he felt the bed dip and heard the ruffling of materials as Rick settled himself next to Negan and switched on the tv.

  
“Breaking news, another man had been found murdered, the third victim of this killing spree.”

  
Negan's eyes shot open, his body tensing. He heard Rick whistle low and imagined him shaking his head in disapproval.

  
“That's a damn shame,” Rick remarked. Negan heard the juice swish around in the plastic bottle as Rick took a drink.

  
“Friends of the victim say he had been missing for a few days-”

  
Negan couldn't take it anymore.

  
“Someone mention a damn shame?” Negan slurred as he rolled over to face Rick and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, acting as though he had just woken from a long, peaceful slumber. “The only thing that's a damn shame is wakin’ up to an empty bed.”  
Rick startled a bit, body jerking forward as if on autopilot, reaching for his hip and ready to make a quick exit, but relaxed, his brain catching up his body. Negan raised his eyebrows and gave him a soft, sleepy smile in response.

  
Rick relaxed, though not without giving Negan a dirty glare, sinking back into the pillows, turning his eyes back to the tv, gestured to the tv with the hand that held the orange juice saying, “Some guy is going around killing people. The third victim and police still have no idea who it is.” Negan hummed his understanding. He eyed Rick carefully while he was fixated on the tv, trying to gauge Rick's reaction. Rick's face betrayed nothing. He just sighed heavily, then switched the channel. Negan released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

  
“It's a damn shame,” Rick repeated, closing the conversation, taking a bite of his muffin, and settled on watching some game show that Negan had never seen before.  
Negan stretched and let out a loud yawn. He saw Rick glance at him out of the corners of his eyes, but Negan pretended not to notice. He wandered off to the bathroom and quickly rinsed his mouth out, then pulled on his undershirt, even though it reeked of week old sweat. Washing would just have to wait. When he reentered the room, Rick was engaged in conversation on the phone, speaking sternly, with a deliberate purpose.

  
“Yes, well we would have to bring you to it, it's out in the middle of nowhere he told me.” Ah, so he found a mechanic. “How much do you estimate it will be?” A pause. “Sure, that sounds reasonable - alright - alright, yes, see you at four.”

  
“Well, look at that! By the sound of your sweet, southern, melodic voice, I would wager that you found someone to fix my bike.” Negan said cheerfully as he made his way over to his bag to put on his jeans.

  
“Yeah, I'll drive you to where you left your bike, and hopefully the guy can fix it,” Rick confirmed.

  
Negan cut the silence that followed with the zip of his duffle bag. He brushed his hair back and looked over at Rick who was staring at Negan as he was bent over his bag on the floor. A slight blush was covering his cheeks and Negan smirked. Rick averted Negan's eyes and instead focused on the clock, which was reading 3:45.

  
Rick cleared his throat and said, “We should probably get going. The mechanic is about five minutes from here, shouldn't be a long drive.”

  
Negan swung his bag over his shoulder, smirk turning into a full blown grin. “Let's get a move on then, cowboy.”

  
~

  
The ride to the mechanics was silent. Tension smothered the air, worked its way between the two of them, tangled its way around Negan's limbs and made it difficult to keep up his charming exterior. It prevented him from breaking the awkward silence. Every time he looked over at Rick, ready to engage in conversation or make a quip at him, the man clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Negan cocked his head to the side, studying Rick again because that was definitely an interesting reaction. He got that scared animal look on his face again and the vibe that Rick was putting out was definitely saying just don't. So Negan didn't. He wasn't a complete ass.

  
The ride from the mechanics was silent too, aside from Negan directing Rick to the point at which he had abandoned his bike. Negan couldn't shake the way the mechanic’s eyes had followed his movements, lingered on his face, as if he was trying to recall where he had seen him before. Though the mechanic was old and withered, hands shaking constantly, his eyes were bright and blue and sharp when they looked at Negan. When his eyes fixed on Rick, however, they softened a bit, almost drooped down in sorrow. Negan had followed his gaze and tried to find the sorrow his eyes were seeing. But all he saw was Rick. The mechanic looked at the pair of them the way a sailor might look at an ominous sky brewing over the ocean. It was unsettling how much Negan felt the man could see.

  
When the silhouette of the bike appeared on the dusty horizon, a sinking feeling settled in Negan's stomach. If you asked him why, he couldn't tell you, he just knew that he wasn't going to leave. Not yet. But he knew that Rick was trying to get rid of him as soon as possible; he had to think of something before the mechanic could fix his bike and then he wouldn't have an excuse to stay.

  
Panic rose in the back of his throat as they pulled to a halt on the side of the empty road, a couple of feet away from his bike. Rick got out without a word and motioned for the mechanic to follow him. As the mechanic passed by Rick's car, his eyes locked onto Negan and narrowed. Negan remained unmoved, trapped in the car, until the mechanic broke his gaze and moved towards Rick.

  
Negan muttered a string of curses under his breath and fumbled with the door as he tried to catch up to the mechanic with the haunting eyes. He slammed the door, but neither Rick nor the mechanic turned around. They were both talking animatedly about the motorcycle in front of them. Fuck, the guy has his tools out already, shit, shit, shit. Negan ran a hand through his hair and tried to steady his breathing, then walked over to join the two. The mechanic was circling around the bike, looking for a hint as to what went wrong. He didn't look up even as Negan approached. Rick at least glanced over at him.

  
“So what seems to be wrong with my baby, hm?” Negan asked, flashing the smile he knew won everyone over.

  
“Don't speak,” the mechanic said, his voice low and gruff as if he had smoked a pack just an hour before.

  
Negan held the smile on his face, however his eyes turned cold, his voice taking on a hard edge as he said, “Fuckin’ hell, whatever the fuck you want man.” Again, he felt his gaze being pulled towards Rick, like he needed to see Rick's reaction in order to determine his own, to see if he had acted appropriately. Rick's face remained still and unmoved and it was almost unnerving to look at.

  
After a while, the mechanic crouched down behind the back tire and prodded it with his finger.

  
“Flat,” he announced, dusting off his pants. “Easy fix, you still have half a tank left.”  
Rick opened his mouth, but Negan quickly cut him off because things couldn't be going this way, saying, “Now wait just a minute here, are you positive that it's just a flat? Because last night there was a huge noise. Kinda like an explosion.” Rick raised an eyebrow. “Had to pull over as soon as I could. I think it was more than just a flat tire, tires don't just spontaneously combust! Why don't we check again?”

  
“Flat,” the mechanic repeated as though he hadn't heard Negan at all.

  
Negan felt his face heat up because this guy was pressing his nerves.

  
“Look, I am paying you to fix my bike, so therefore it's your job to-”

  
“Is this really your bike?” the mechanic asked, pointedly, accusation flooding his tone.

  
“Excuse me?” Well, that, wasn't how Negan imagined this conversation going. The mechanic merely raised his bushy, gray eyebrows as if Negan's reaction in itself was response enough.

  
“Of course she's mine, had her for years now, probably why she keeps breakin’ down on me.”

  
The mechanic just narrowed his eyes and sniffed. “This is not an old model, very recent, I think you are-”

  
His sentence was cut off by the shrill ringing of a cell phone. Both Negan and the mechanic quit their stare off to turn their eyes in the direction of Rick, who was sheepishly pulling his phone from his pocket. He gave a half-hearted smile, doing his best to ignore the way his shoulders dropped slightly as he moved away from the other two claiming it was a “business call” and that it would “only take a minute”. He gave Negan a look that was hard to decipher, then turned his back on them to answer the call. When Rick removed himself from earshot, Negan turned back to the mechanic.

  
“This is not yours,” the mechanic reiterated, clenching his teeth. His stare was icy.

  
“The fuck it's not,” Negan spit back.

  
“I have seen men like you,” the mechanic said, so calmly that an outsider wouldn't have guessed the two were having a row. It was as if he was completely unbothered, just tiredly restating facts to a stubborn child who refused to listen. “They come and take and take and take, ruining anything they touch, leaving only destruction in their wake. They upset the balance of the universe. They are the kind who kills a man in his sleep and feels no remorse.”

  
Negan felt his pulse pick up, felt his vision blur at the edges with anger, because who is this old man to tell me who I am. If Rick hadn't been standing mere feet away, Negan would have throttled the guy. That didn't stop him from lunging forward though, albeit against his better judgement, grabbing the mechanic by the collar and yanking him just centimeters from his face.

  
“You listen here, asshole, you dunno jack shit about me, ya got that?” Spittle landed on the mechanics face, but he said nothing. His eyes, however, were alight with fury. The mechanic ground his jaw and Negan thought the old shit was gonna be obstinate and remain silent, but the mechanic spoke after all. “You are a bad man.”

  
Negan sneered, something like a growl escaping his throat before he shoved the mechanic harshly away. The man stumbled a bit, but remained righted. The two glared at each other until they heard the crunch of gravel, beneath Rick's feet as he made his way back over.

  
“Sorry about that,” he said, coming to stand at Negan's side. “We figure out what's up with this bike yet?”

  
“Yeah,” Negan interjected quickly, keeping his gaze pointedly away from the mechanic and fixed solely on Rick, flashing another smile. “A fuse blew, boss said he'd take it back to his shop to fix it up for me, right?”

  
Both Negan and Rick turned to look at the mechanic, whose eyes had again narrowed on Negan.

  
“There is no fuse. You are in poor company,” the mechanic said.

  
The ground shifted beneath Negan's feet and he saw red. He was about to satisfy the itch his hands had been feeling to just wrap themselves around the old man’s throat, when Rick, ever so calm and level headed, said, “I wouldn't judge so harshly of his character. If there is a problem with the motorcycle, I gave him my word that we would get it taken care of. Maybe you could get a better look if we took it back to your shop. Come on, I can help you load it onto the back of your truck.”

  
Rick was already making moves to get the bike off the side of the road and to the truck and Negan felt a smug sense of pride curl up in his chest because he had cornered the bastard. And Rick had defended him. The mechanic looked absolutely enraged, eyes flashing, but he didn't argue with Rick. He spit at the ground next to Negan's foot and went to assistRick. Negan glared at the man's hunched over form, but decided against retaliating. He took a deep, reaffirming breath and looked out at the vast, dust covered landscape, before turning on his heel and getting back into the passenger's side of Rick's car.

  
~

  
Later that night, Rick turned in early. He tossed a pillow between his side and Negan's, hoping to make it look like a careless accident, not outright addressing what had happened the night before, but heavily implying. Negan tried not to ignore the feeling of whatever the fuck that was spreading in his stomach. Rick was, after all, just a stranger. Negan switched off the lights and crawled into bed next to Rick, yet separate from him. He didn't say good night. He just stared at the wall for hours, counting the flowers on the wallpaper, until he noticed that Rick's breathing had evened and the man had started softly snoring.

  
But Negan couldn't sleep. He couldn't get the mechanic’s comments out of his head. They had made their way beneath his skin and was making his body vibrate with an uncontrollable anger. He recalled how the mechanic had looked at him with utter malice and distrust. Negan ground his teeth together so hard that the noise cut through the silent room and made Rick stir slightly in his sleep. The icy glare pierced Negan's mind every time he closed his eyes. It made his hands itch. It made his whole body tremble.

  
It had reached a point to which Negan just couldn't take it anymore. He was sweating and his skin was vibrating and it felt like he was out of his mind. Slowly, he slid out of bed so as not to disturb Rick. He pulled on his shirt, snatched his leather coat from off the edge of the bed, grabbed the keys to Rick's car as a belated afterthought, and left the room. The warm, Arizona night air wafted gently over Negan caressing him gently. He made his way down to the parking lot and unlocked the car door and started the engine. With an iron grip on the wheel, he swerved out of the parking lot and decided to take a little drive down to the mechanics shop to satisfy the itch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take a shot every time you read the word 'rugged'


	4. negan

Negan woke to the rustling of fabric, frantic breathing, and the quick zip of a zipper being pulled. He blinked himself awake slowly and rolled over to find Rick on both knees in front of his suitcase trying to cram it shut. His curled hair was falling into his eyes, slightly damp, his ears tinted pink in a blush due to exertion. The tv remote was discarded a little ways away from the suitcase; it looked like it had been dropped. Or thrown. Negan's eyes immediately flew to the tv screen. The local news was on, Rick had muted it, but the headline made Negan's stomach drop: “Local Mechanic Found Dead In Shop”.

  
“Oh hell,” he whispered, absolutely mortified as they showed a clip of a gurney being lifted into an ambulance.

  
Rick's head shot up, distracted from his suitcase, and looking distressed that Negan had woken. Negan met Rick's pained expression with one of his confusion because _what the holy damn hell is going on?_

  
“What's going on, Rick?” Negan asked, narrowing his eyes. Rick didn't answer. Negan looked at the tv, then back at Rick, then down to his half zipped suitcase. “You skipping out on me?”

  
Rick looked at the tv, inhaling deeply. He looked like he was having another internal crisis with himself and it made Negan sweat. Rick stared at his hands for a while before saying, “Someone killed the mechanic last night. They didn't leave any evidence, they made it look like an accident.”

  
Rick fiddled with the zipper and Negan knew he was holding something back.

  
“That's not all, is it, hm, Rick?” It was more of a demand than a question.

  
Rick's eyes came up from his lap and Negan expected them to be soft and sympathetic, but, to his surprise, Rick's eyes were alight with intense anger.

  
“And I think you did it,” Rick said, maintaining eye contact, a tick in his jaw as he tightly clenched it shut.

  
Negan tossed his head back and laughed. “What?” he said, looking at Rick as he finished chuckling at the absurdity. “What kinda guy do you think I am? You think I go around killing people? Shit, Rick.”

  
Rick went back to trying to zip his suitcase up, removing his accusatory glare from Negan. “At first, I was really skeptical, because I try to see the best in everyone-” he enunciated the word everyone harshly, “and when I saw you sneak out last night, I just assumed it was because you couldn't sleep. I felt you tossing and turning for hours. But then, this morning, I noticed that my keys had been moved. And when I went out to check my car, I found your jacket inside on the back seat and five extra miles on my dash. Then the story on the news came on, and I put the pieces together.”

  
Negan jolted out of bed and made a move towards Rick, but Rick put out his arm to stop him, a warning in his eyes. Negan stopped his movement at the foot of the bed, placing himself between the unfolding story on the tv and Rick. He mirrored Rick's body language, remaining more than an arm's length away, and regarding Rick cautiously. There he was again, like a scared animal about to bolt.

  
“Now, Rick, it's not what you think, I-” began Negan sweetly.

  
“Don't,” Rick said sternly, pointing a finger in Negan's direction. His eyes were shining, with tears or anger, Negan wasn't sure. “You - don't. Don't act like you didn't this. I saw the way the mechanic looked at you, I heard what he said, and I saw the little scuffle you two had when you thought I was just taking a phone call.” The words sounded like venom dripping from Rick's lips. “I've dealt with men like you before. You could charm your way out of anything, probably. And I'm a fool for thinking any different of you.” Rick laughed bitterly and shook his head. “And I feel like a fool because they make tv shows and write novels about roadside killers and I thought to myself ‘well, there's no way’, but you stole my car in the dead of night to go kill the man who was going to fix your bike.” Negan opened his mouth to refute, but Rick talked right over him, raising his voice. “Do not! I'm not finished. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but then you murdered someone and I should've seen who you are from the moment you sweet-talked your way into this cheap room.”

  
When Rick had finally finished his rant, he had completely forgotten about his suitcase. He was breathing hard and little beads of sweat had begun to form around his hairline, causing his curls to stick to his forehead. It was the most Negan thought that Rick had ever said to him, which was exhilarating and also a turn on because _well shit, looks like there are some balls down there after all._

  
“Listen, Rick, darlin’, I didn't kill him. I may be a lotta things, but a murderer just doesn't happen to be one of them.” Rick scoffed and laughed mirthlessly. That made Negan's eyes cloud over. “Look, I have no reason to lie to you. I know it looks bad, really I know, but I didn't kill him.”

  
“Bullshit,” Rick snarled, taking a threatening step towards Negan. “The evidence is right there.”

  
“Do you want me to prove it to you?” Rick just continued to glare at him. Negan rolled his eyes up to heaven as he said, “Fucking fine, Rick, I'll prove it.”

  
Stepping backwards towards the trash can in the bathroom, he kept his eyes on Rick because Negan wasn't sure what the guy would do if he turned his back. Once inside the bathroom, he snatched an empty bag of Fritos and a can of red bull energy drink out of the trash can and took two long strides back into the room, thrusting them towards Rick.  
“Here. Just a little midnight snack is all.”

  
Rick still didn't look convinced.

  
“Fuckin’ shit,” Negan grumbled, as he fumbled around the garbage in his hands and ran to the side of the bed where a crumpled receipt lay. He picked that up and rounded the foot of the bed again. Negan uncrumpled it held it out in front of him. When Rick didn't take it, Negan huffed in annoyance, stepping closer, grabbing Rick's wrist and forcing his palm open so that Negan could stuff the receipt into his hand.

  
Rick looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, glare completely gone, a crease in his brow indicating confusion instead of anger. For a moment, only Negan's breathing filled the silence in the room as Rick studied the receipt. Vaguely Negan wondered if everyone could hear his heart beating, or if it was just him. He was about to break the silence by making not a snarky remark, but Rick beat him to the punch.

  
“You expect me to believe this?” he asked, looking at Negan, eyes narrowed, but free from the furious flame that was once in them.

  
Negan could've strangled Rick, because now this was just getting ridiculous. He leaned his head back, groaning at the ceiling.

  
“What the fuck do you want, Rick? You've got my word and the evidence in your fucking hand! Now if you wanna play sheriff, I suggest you catch a real criminal before spewing accusations like a broken shitter.”

  
Rick blinked back his surprise, glancing down at the crumpled receipt in his hand. He clenched his fist around the receipt. Negan moved slowly around Rick, careful not to get too close, to grab the remote from off the floor and switch off the tv. Rick looked up at him warily, but not as furious at least.

  
With the tv off and the two of them a good distance apart, it fell completely silent. Both Rick and Negan were regarding each other carefully, calculating the others next move. Rick had his hand at his side, but the fingers twitched slightly ever so often. _Itching to pull one on me,_ Negan guessed. He smiled again, but it failed to reach his eyes this time.

  
“Don't worry, Rick, everyone is wrong some time or another. I forgive you,” Negan said. He reached out to pull Rick closer, to reassure him that this was just a misunderstanding, but Rick pulled back, hand inching closer to the gun strapped to his hip.

  
“I'm not playing sheriff,” Rick said, steel creeping into his voice.

  
Negan hardly noticed, this annoying display of dominance was starting to piss him off.  
“Yeah, sure, Rick. What else did you do? Call the police on me too?”

  
Rick's silence confirmed the truth. The smile slipped from Negan's face and his gaze got dangerously cold.

  
“Now, I really wish you hadn't done that, Rick. See, it makes me out to be something that I'm not.”

  
“I know what you are.”

  
“Not a killer!” Negan couldn't help his voice from climbing to a shout.

  
A look flickered over Rick’s face, something akin to remorse. He slowly dropped his hand from its position next to the gun. But the anger in Negan’s eyes made Rick close himself off once again. He squared his shoulders.

  
“The police are on their way,” he said quietly, but not without an underlying tone of malice and distrust. He looked into Negan's eyes. And he expected them to be hard and cruel, the eyes of a murderer, but they lacked that. Instead they held a sort of desperation. And maybe…

  
“If - if you didn't do it,” Rick began, “you need to prove it to me. Let me see that I can trust you.”

  
Negan pulled on his bottom lip, making a show of being deep in thought. After a moment of tense silence, Negan just shrugged, as if his freedom wasn't on the line and said, “All the evidence I have is either in your hand or out of my mouth.” Rick remained quiet, so Negan continued. “And if you really think that I did it, then shit, you have every right to rat me out. But I think there's a part of you that believes that I'm telling the truth. Now, I'm not gonna tell you which part of you to believe, but the decision is up to you. And I would make that choice pretty quickly.”

  
Rick took a nervous glance out the window, the looked cautiously over at Negan, who was all too nonchalant about the matter. Rick opened his mouth to reply, but Negan interrupted, stating, “I would also ask you to consider what the police will think when they find you here with me. The accomplice maybe? Did you expect to be gone by now? Hell, do you want me to get back in the bed and try your whole little dramatic exit all over again?”

  
“Just shut up,” Rick snarled.

  
Negan's lips curled up into a smile. He knew that he had Rick now.

  
“Lets go, princess,” Negan said, leaning over to grab his duffle bag from beneath the bed, making the decision for Rick. He was grateful that he had slept in his clothes last night, not wanting to waste any time getting dressed.

  
“We?” Rick asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

  
“Yes ‘we’”, Negan snapped, zipping up his bag and practically throwing it over his shoulder. Anything he left behind he would just have to buy again because the feds could show up any minute now, it's a wonder they've been occupied this long. “The mechanic is dead and his shop is a crime scene, so there's no way I'm getting my bike back.” The thought hurt him a little bit. “And do I need to go over the whole, cops finding you here with me scenario? Or are you good on that?”

  
Negan crossed the room and brushed by Rick, bumping his shoulder none too kindly. He sat atop Rick's suitcase with a grunt, forcing it closed, and zipped it up without a problem. He jumped up, grabbed the handle, and nearly threw it at Rick.

  
“C’mon, cowboy, it's time to go.”

  
Rick looked down at his suitcase, refused to meet Negan's eyes, and Negan could already tell that another internal moral crisis was happening again, but they just didn't have the time for that.

  
“This is your bed that you've made, now you can either lie in it or we can get the _hell_ outta here.” Negan told Rick, shoving the handle into Rick’s hand roughly. “Either way, I will leave your ass and they will lock you up.”

  
Rick raised his eyes so that they were level with Negan's. His jaw clenched. And for a moment, Negan was sure that Rick was going to hit him and run. There was no kindness in the stare. And if Negan were anyone else, he might even be intimidated. But the look on the shorter man just encouraged a smile out of Negan.

“I'll drive,” Rick said.

  
Negan breathed a sigh of relief. “Now that is the answer I wanted to hear,” he exclaimed cheerfully. Rick didn't return his enthusiasm.

  
“I'm not doing this for you,” he said lowly. “But I have to get back.”

  
Negan cocked his head, giving Rick a puzzled grin. _This guy sure is a puzzle. I might just have to keep him._

  
Without another word, the two of them left the motel room inconspicuously. Rick pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road. Negan reached back to grab his jacket from the backseat, pleased to find that his cigarettes and lighter were in the pocket, lighting one and taking a long drag, reveling in the burn in his chest. As they made it out of the town and onto the highway, Negan belatedly remembered that they hadn't paid for the extra night. He flicked the cigarette butt out the window and thought to himself well, if the feds don't pin us for the murder, they'll definitely be after us for that. He had to smile to himself because the thought of going to jail over an unpaid motel room was laughable considering the ordeal that Rick had just put him through. He began chuckling to himself, which soon escalated laughing, and then into full blown cackling. Rick shot him a glare, but Negan hardly even noticed, doubled over himself, completely in hysterics. He was laughing so uncontrollably that it soon descended into coughing, heavy hacking coughs that wracked his whole body. Rick thumped his back a few times and soon the coughing fit was over and Negan was giggling once more. He wiped tears from his eyes and leaned back against the seat, letting his laughter die out.

  
“Not a fucking murderer, sure,” Rick grumbled.

  
“Not even close, sugar,” Negan said, smiling and reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. He pressed it between his lips and lit the end. He rested his head against the headrest and turned his head to look at Rick. He smiled around his cigarette as he said, “How do you feel about Vegas, Rick?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so who killed the mechanic if Negan didnt? hmm


	5. rick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rick is a real idiot

Truthfully, Rick had never been to Vegas. He did get a drunk skype call from Shane once while he was gambling and there may have been a few strippers dancing in the background, but that was the closest that Rick's ever been to Sin City; that was the time Shane had gone without him. And yet, here he was, with a man that he hardly knew, the sun setting behind them and the neon glow of Vegas shining bright and inviting on the horizon. They drove all day, five straight hours, the man insisting that they not stop, chain smoking cigarette after cigarette and carelessly tossing them out the window. Rick had let the window down at one point to filter out the smoke and told the man that that was quite enough smoking in his car. Instead of being offended at the statement, like Rick expected him to be, the man simply shot him a blinding smile and tucked the nearly empty cigarette pack back into his jacket pocket as the wind gusted across his face. Rick swallowed the lump in his throat and drove on. The ride was filled with heavy silence and the man attempting to coax Rick into trading short stories back and forth, but Rick remained stubbornly quiet for the majority of the ride. Rick found himself imagining that the man was his best friend - Shane - and they were embarking on the trip they had talked about since they were in training together. It was ridiculous to make up a fantasy like that, Rick knew, and it hurt him to know that their friendship had come to an end, but the long drive made for plenty of time to spend in his mind, a pastime that he tried not to indulge in.

  
With the city dancing on the horizon in front of him, Rick felt a sense of uncertainty chill his blood, something he hadn't felt since being in the field, but had been a frequent feeling since picking up the stranger. What am I doing here? He found himself questioning his most recent life decisions, starting with picking up this stranger in the first place. Again, he was going over ways that he could get rid of the man without being forced into a more intense situation, but none of them were plausible. Maybe if he just pulled over and kicked him out-

  
“Knock that off,” Negan said, staring at Rick with intense eyes.

  
Rick startled a bit, shooting the man an incredulous look, admitting that he had no idea what the man was talking about because _he was only driving for gods sakes._

  
“That thing you do when you're thinking too hard,” Negan sniffed. “You get a little crease in your forehead. Makes you look like you're tryin’ not to shit yourself.” The man made himself crack up again, something he tended to do more often that making Rick even crack a smile. Rick fixed him with a glare and felt his jaw work as he tried not to make a scathing remark. Negan acted as though the glare didn't affect him at all, giggling gleefully to himself. “Jesus Christ, man, lighten up!”

  
Rick refused to reply, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, and kept his eyes fixed on the highway in front of him. He wanted the man to stop running his damn mouth.

  
“Did ya hear what I said, Rick? Lighten the fuck up.” Negan promptly reached into his pocket with a devilish grin. He pulled out his lighter, meeting Rick’s wary glance over at him with a laugh. He flicked the lighter on and waved it above his head, like he was at an 80s rock concert, eyes closed as he swayed back and forth to the imaginary ballad.

  
“What the hell are you doing?” Rick sighed with exasperation.

  
“Helping you light-” Negan thrust the lighter close to Rick’s face. Rick jerked away instinctively. “- the fuck up.” He laughed at his own joke.

  
“Put that away,” Rick said, sternly.

  
He heard the pull of the man’s leather jacket as he shrugged.

  
“Yes, sir.”

  
Rick imagined the saucy wink that probably followed that comment and groaned. He had to get rid of this guy.

  
Of course the silence that Rick had established was soon broken again.

  
“You can't tell me that you're not at least a little bit excited to be in Vegas,” Negan smiled. His eyes lit up as he spoke. “Just imagine all the debauchery. The casinos, the alcohol,” he looked at Rick from the corners of his eyes, “the girls.” The man was practically purring.

  
“We're only in Vegas because you said ‘we have to lose the feds’,” Rick said, making air quotation marks with the hand not on the wheel.

  
“Which was your fault, by the way,” Negan interjected.

  
Rick ignored him. “And this was the best choice of city to get lost in, within a reasonable driving distance.”

  
“Oh, we are definitely gettin’ lost here, I'll make sure to show you a good time,” Negan promised.

  
“We're not getting lost here,” Rick stated with finality. Their destination was rapidly approaching.

  
Negan pouted, sticking his bottom lip out petulantly. “Break my heart, Rick. What else are you supposed to do in Vegas besides commit absolute atrocities that you'd never dare of doin’ back home?”

  
“You can commit all the atrocities you want,” Rick said harshly, turning off the exit ramp and into the city. The neon signs were everywhere, reflecting off the windshield and lighting up the pavement in pinks and reds and blues and oranges. “I'm going home.”

  
Negan clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Don't you even want to experience the pure sin? Makes my little heart beat a little fast just thinkin’ about it.”

  
“No,” Rick said. And that was it.

  
Silence fell over them once more and this time it stayed. Negan stared out the window, resting his forehead against the glass, the lights casting an otherworldly glow about him. Rick ignored the way the lights hardened his features, making him appear almost dangerous. Rick plugged in the address to an affordable hotel with a higher star rating that the last place they had stayed in, but the man shook his head.

  
“I know a place, made a friend here on my first trip through.” Negan smiled softly, like he was remembering a fond memory. “And he owes me one.” The soft smile slipped off his face as he fixed Rick with another trademark grin. “He’ll put you up for free, my favor to you.”

  
Rick narrowed his eyes at him. It wouldn't be prudent to take Negan’s word for anything. However, money was running low. And he needed enough to get home, maybe pick up something nice for Carl to apologize for leaving him.

  
“Fine,” Rick complied. He glared in the face of Negan’s ever widening grin. “But,” Rick said pointing a finger at Negan, “we're getting separate rooms and that's the last you'll be seeing of me.”

  
“Anything you say, darlin’.”

  
~

  
After a fair amount of driving around uncertainly, and Negan promising that they were almost there, the pair of them stopped in front of an inconspicuous looking building with heavy looking, wooden doors and blacked out windows. Rick could faintly hear the slow, sensual notes of a trumpet wailing from within. Above the door hung a blue neon sign that read “Bliss”. From an outside glance, the average person wouldn't think twice about what this place was. It could have been a bar. It could have been a restaurant. It could have been a type of vintage club. But Rick wasn't naive, he knew what this place was, and it definitely was not a hotel. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. Negan pulled open one of the doors, and held it open, motioning for Rick to enter. The slow jazz filtered from inside, accompanied by a trail of smoke mixed with the potent scent of alcohol. Rick looked at he man, then back at the dark interior.

  
“What do you think this is?” he asked, not moving towards the door. “This isn't a hotel.”

  
“There's rooms upstairs,” Negan reassured him. “I didn't say it was a Marriott, Rick.”

  
Before Rick could refute, Negan reached forward and looped his arm around Rick’s shoulder, pulling him along. He was pressed snugly against him, the leather squeaking as Negan tightened his hold.

  
“Let's go, Rick. It'll be a blast. Trust me.”

  
_I don't trust you at all._

  
Rick reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged into the building. The smoke and smell of liquor in the air hit him like a wall. He found himself stumbling into Negan to right himself at the student sensory overload. He felt the man's chest rumble, a deep chuckle spilling from his lips as he kept Rick ever close.

  
As they ventured further inside, it turns out that the man who owns Negan a favor is the owner of a burlesque club. And not just any burlesque club, but it was, as Rick suspected, a vintage inspired burlesque club. As they entered, Rick caught sight of an illuminated stage, slightly raised from the floor, against the far wall of the club. On it stood a blonde woman, wearing bright red lipstick, stilettos, and a creamy, silk camisole that barely touched the tops of her thighs who was singing a soulful tune that complimented the trumpet wonderfully. Her voice rose and fell melodically and mournfully as she clutched her pearls through a particularly heavy verse. It was enough to give Rick goosebumps because she was good, more than good, and what's a woman like that doing in a place like this? Performing in lacy undergarments that left almost nothing to the imagination for drunken men on their fourth round and passing cheap cigars back and forth? Rick felt very uncomfortable and out of place, he just couldn't envision himself in the same vicinity as these creepy old men who needed to objectify women in such a perverse fashion. However, he had a feeling that Negan fit right in here. He turned around to tell Negan that he was leaving - he didn't need to be here - but he wasn't behind him. Nervously, Rick did a full 360 sweep, trying to catch a glimpse of the man in the crowd, but he didn't see him. Rick decided to take the opportunity to leave. Weaving through the throng of people, he began to make his way back towards the exit. And he was nearly back to the corridor that the two of them had entered through, when he walked right into a solid chest.

  
“Now, Rick, don't you think we've had enough of you tryin’ to skip out on me for one day?” Negan smiled down at him. _Shit_.

  
Negan turned Rick around so that they were walking back into the club, a hand on the small of his back, steering him towards an empty table near the front of the stage. Negan pulled out the chair for Rick, grinning sweetly at him. Rick wasn't happy about it, but he sat down nevertheless. That only pleased Negan more.

  
“You just sit right there, alright? Don't try to run off again. I'm going to find the guy who owns this place, play a little catch up, then you can go on off to bed and start your little journey home.”

  
Negan turned his back and disappeared into the crowd again, not giving Rick a chance to reply. Rick turned his head to follow where Negan had gone, and sure enough, the man was propped up against the counter and trying to smooth talk the bartender, or so Rick assumed. Negan caught him looking and shot him a wink. Rick scoffed and shook his head in sheer disbelief. If the man could charm water from a stone, he probably would.

  
By the end of the performance, Negan had made his way over to the table that Rick was sitting at and clunked two large beers down in front of him.

  
“Well, shit, I would've thought for sure you would've hightailed it outta here!” Negan exclaimed.

  
Rick remained quiet, settling for studying his beer instead. He could feel the man looking at him curiously. A few sips and one song later, Negan has long since finished his glass, while Rick’s beer remained untouched.

  
“I really hope you're going to drink that,” he said, feigning nonchalance.

  
“And if I don't?” Rick fired back.

  
Negan blinked, as if the sharpness of Rick’s voice had caught him off guard. His eyes briefly took on a coldness to them, but then the look was gone and replaced with a grin as Negan leaned back in his chair.

  
“Then don't,” he shrugged. “I'll have all the fun.”

  
Negan reached for the glass, but Rick pulled it out of his reach. Negan cocked his head to the side. Rick met Negan’s stare with one of his own. Then took a small sip, partially out of spite, partially because it had been a while since someone bought _him_ a drink.

  
“That's more like it,” Negan said, leaning back in his chair, smiling at Rick. Rick didn't return the smile and turned his body away from the man. He took another sip, savor in the beer on his tongue, reveling in the way it washed down his throat. _Maybe if I drink enough, this night will be over._

  
~

  
After a few more acts and few more beers, Rick and Negan had been in the club for over an hour. It was getting a bit too late to be out in an unfamiliar city, with an unfamiliar man for Rick's taste. He leaned over and let the man know that they should probably head out soon. When he leaned back, Negan was actually pouting, his bottom lip stuck out and shining and very red.

  
“Oh, c’mon, Rick! The night's just gettin’ started, let's stay, dontcha wanna stay for a while longer?”

  
“No, after this we've got to go,” Rick said again firmly. He cradled his forehead in his hand, he was going to have a killer headache tomorrow. The man stuck his lip further out and looked up at Rick through his lashes.

  
“How about this, one more drink, then we'll go.” He crossed his finger over his heart in an x shape. “Scouts honor.”

  
The man disappeared, once again, without giving Rick a chance to disagree. That's probably how he gets people to do whatever he wants them to, Rick thought, dragging a finger through a ring of condensated water on the table absently.

  
When he returned, the man had two smaller glasses in his hands, much less imposing than the pints of beer he had been bringing over. He placed what appeared to be a carbonated drink in front of Rick, garnished with a fresh lime wedge and little drops of condensation forming on the sides.

  
“A gin and tonic for you, and a White Russian for me,” Negan said, tongue poking out from behind his teeth in such a way that made him seem more youthful.

  
“So fancy,” was all Rick said, not trusting his mouth and brain to cooperate.

  
“Figured you might like to try somethin’ new.”

  
Rick looked up and the two held eye contact, probably for a moment longer than necessary as they sized each other up before Rick huffed and looked down into his tonic. Even though Rick had looked away, he knew that the man was still fixated on him.

  
“You know, your accent comes out when you're a little tipsy,” Negan pointed out. “You never did tell me where you're from.”

  
“I don’t have an accent,” Rick scoffed, lifting the glass to his lips and letting that liquid bubble in his mouth and slide down his throat. He sighed as the drink warmed his insides, despite being iced. “And I’m not tipsy. Just been a while since I've been out, that's all.”

  
Negan hummed. Rick faintly registered the scratch of the legs of the chair across the floor as Negan scooted closer to him, but Rick was too far over the edge to pull away, despite trying to hold it together. He felt his eyelids drooping slightly, the drink flooding his veins making him feel at ease for the first time that night. He felt the heat of Negan next to him, so close to him, radiating onto his side. He swallowed heavily and made a conscious effort to fix his eyes onto the stage. The woman who had come to stand behind the microphone was a brunette, her hair pin curled up neatly, red lipstick standing out against her pale complexion. The soft tap of piano keys filled the air and the talking died down as the singer gripped the microphone with a daintly gloved hand, readying herself to sing.

  
_Well I heard there was a secret chord_  
_That David played and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?_

  
Rick wrinkled his brow as he tried to remember where he had heard the song before. He knew it, he knew it, but from where? The woman continued on, voice lulling the audience into something of a trance. Rick looked down into his glass and realized that it was empty; he didn't remember finishing it. He found it very difficult to focus on more than one thing at once, staring so intently into his glass that when he decided to listen again, the song was already more than halfway over.

  
_But remember when I moved in you_  
_And the holy dove was moving too  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah_

  
“We...we should p-probably go,” Rick said, sluggishly pulling himself up from the chair. Something wasn't right.

  
Negan pulled on his arm. All Rick could feel was the heat coming from his palm. “The shows not over yet, we don't wanna be rude,” he said jovially, but stood up with Rick after noticing that he wasn't moving to sit back down, the playful tone of voice slipping from his voice.

Rick stumbled over to the bar, crashing into it heavily, drawing attention to the pair of them from some of the patrons. Negan was beside him instantly, a firm hand on his back, trying to steady him.

  
“Shit, Rick, should've told me you were a lightweight, ” he heard Negan say, but he sounded far away, like maybe they were underwater or at opposite ends of a tunnel.

  
Rick tried to force himself upright and away from the counter, but then, suddenly, he was hit with an intense wave of fatigue. His legs weakened and buckled beneath him as he staggered into Negan, trying to maintain his footing.

  
_Hallelujah_

  
"You don't look so hot there," the man chuckled. Rick felt the vibrations from Negan's chest rumble through Rick's skull and pierce his brain.

  
"Wha-" Rick slurred. His eyes were heavy and drooping, and even though he was concentrating with everything he had, he could barely keep them open. He opened his mouth over and over and he just couldn't speak, couldn't even get a single word out. He found himself leaning more heavily onto Negan, the heat from his chest warming him at all the points of contact.

  
"You're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow," Negan said fondly, wrapping his arms around Rick to keep him from falling. Rick tried to lift his head to make eye contact with Negan, but his head was too heavy. The world was moving in slow motion, the colors blurring. He could feel Negan speaking beneath him again, but the words didn't register. Everything felt wrong. Rick knew he wasn't a lightweight. He knew that he could handle his alcohol. This was something else entirely. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, it was as if he was out of his body.

  
_Hallelujah_

  
"Wha-whazzu do ta me...?" Rick tried, though he wasn't even sure if what he said made any sense.

  
"Okay, let's get you to the room, darlin’."

  
"N...o, no-" Rick said, or at least he thought that's what he said because Negan was moving like Rick hadn't said anything at all and Rick was moving with him and he needed to wake up and Negan wasn't stopping.

  
Rick tried to get the attention of the people around him, he saw his arm extend out in front of him, but he couldn't reach anyone. He couldn't make his fingers close around anything solid, it's like he was stuck in a dream. Everything was so close, yet so out of reach. And he knew he should be panicking, that he should be feeling anything at all, but everything was numb. He was witnessing the event unfold in front of him and was powerless to stop any of it. The dimly lit room was growing darker by the second, beginning at the edges and bleeding into Rick's direct line of vision.

  
_Hallelujah_

  
Little black spots danced in front of his eyes, growing more vast and eating up more of the scene before him as the seconds went by. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know what was up or down and he was fighting to stay awake, but his body was giving up. If he was completely lucid, he would've felt fear. But all he could feel was the unbearable heat coiling off Negan’s skin and melting him.

  
_Hallelu-ujah_

  
The last thing he saw was the eyes of the bartender following him before he blacked out completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a link to the song the woman was singing as the boys walked in if you're curious: http://youtu.be/m3lF2qEA2cw
> 
> WARNING: THE NEXT CHAPTER IS WHERE IT GETS DARK. more tags will be added and the archive warnings will change. proceed with caution.


	6. negan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the chapter you've all been waiting for - shit hits the fan and things take a turn for the worst. 
> 
> WARNING: READ WITH CAUTION AND MIND THE TAG CHANGES 
> 
> ps - i, as the author, do not agree with nor support any of the behavior that will take place in this chapter/after this point. this is purely for entertainment.

Negan carried Rick up the stairs of the club bridal style, giving the owner a wink and a smile. The owner didn't return the look, instead eyeing Rick, then Negan, and took his leave, saying nothing. 

  
Rick was still out cold when Negan laid him down on the bed, mouth slightly parted and looking so peaceful. Negan stared down at Rick, studying his face carefully. The question remained of what exactly to do next. Negan decided he would freshen up a bit and wait and see if Rick would come to. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the ground beside the bed, pants and boxers following. He padded over to the bathroom, which was fully stocked with soaps and lotions and toothbrushes and, yes, shampoos. Negan was impressed. He fiddled with the shower knobs for a moment because getting a shower that isn't your own to function is always a hassle, but soon the room was filling with steam and Negan felt the tension seep out of his muscles. He stood under the spray for a while, losing track of time as he counted tiles and scrubbed his entire body clean once and then twice. He took his time drying off and lotioning up, even going as far to completely dry his hair and gel it back into place before coming out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Around the corner, in the middle of the bed, laid Rick, in the same position that Negan had left him in and still completely unconscious. Negan huffed and shook his head disapprovingly, he had at least hoped that Negan would be coming back to by now. It had been 30 minutes since Negan stepped into the bathroom at least. He was so _careful_ with the drink, Negan had wanted Rick to be awake for this. It didn't seem like that would be the case.

  
Negan decided that it would be the best thing to make Rick comfortable. He started with Rick's shoes, undoing the laces methodically and with attention, and slipped them off carefully so as not to jostle Rick too much. Peeling off Rick's socks, Negan placed them in the shoes which were set in a row next to the nightstand neatly. He eyed Rick's belt buckle thoughtfully, but chose to go for Rick's shirt first. Securing the towel tighter around his waist, Negan moved up from the foot of the bed and straddled himself across Rick's hips. He rocked himself back and forth, a devilish smirk playing across his lips as he reveled in the feeling. The blue denim button up that Rick was wearing was hugging his body in all the right places and Negan was in heaven because he actually gets to _look and appreciate_ now without all the damn lip from Rick. He undid the buttons slowly, the ruffle of the fabric and Negan's shallow breaths being the only noises cutting the silence in the room. When the shirt fell completely open, Negan sighed in satisfaction because the body matched the face. Rick was made of perfect slopes and planes and lines of lean, tanned muscle and Negan wanted to touch and lick and dominate. Experimentally, Negan touched the flat of his palm to the center of Rick's chest and watched as it rose and fell with Rick's breathing. He used his other hand to grip the side of Rick's hip and gently run it up his side, feeling the bump of his ribs. Negan accidentally brushed a thumb over Rick's right nipple as he moved to take a handful of his pec and this sudden movement earned him a tiny gasp from Rick. It seemed involuntary, like it was Rick's bodily instinct to respond this way, and yet when Negan called his name, Rick still remained non-responsive. 

  
Getting the shirt off wasn't as easy, or as fun, as undoing it because Rick was practically dead weight. It took some tricky maneuvering, and plenty of swearing, before the denim was in a heap on the floor beside the bed. There was so much skin to see, Negan felt like it went on forever. He ran his hands up and down Rick's arms, then his chest, and stopped just at the base of his neck. Negan lovingly traced his collarbones into the hollow of his throat, then placed light touches to the veins on either side of Rick's neck. His fingers danced up and down the expanse of Rick's throat, applying light pressure with one or two fingers just to gauge Rick's reaction. It wasn't much more than a sharp intake of breath, but it was enough. Negan leaned down and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to Rick's neck, just under his jaw and nosed at his pulse. His pulse was a constant reminder that Rick was, in fact, alive and had blood pumping through his veins just like everyone else. But Negan liked to imagine that Rick was made of something different, something that set him apart from everyone else. Maybe he bled blue instead of red. Negan was keen on finding out.

  
Negan rocked his hips back one more time as he removed himself from Rick's neck, and righted himself on Rick's hips so that he could scoot back onto his thighs and begin working on the pants. The clink of the metal belt buckle reverberated through the room as Negan undid it. He kissed a path down the center of Rick's smooth, tanned chest, nipping at his stomach and the vee of his hips as he pulled the belt free from around Rick, tossing it to the side without removing his lips from Rick's body. It landed heavily on the floor, but it was as though Negan didn't even hear it. He was so absorbed in the beauty that was Rick beneath him, everything else was far off and irrelevant.

  
Negan popped the button of Rick's jeans reverently, lips curled into a small sweet smile as he followed the indents of Rick's hips with his fingertips gently. Pressing one small kiss just above the waistband of Rick's boxers, Negan then swung his legs from around Rick and walked around the side of the bed to the foot of it where Rick's bare feet were just barely avoiding hanging off. He tugged at the hems of Rick's jeans, wiggling his legs this way and that, to coax them off Rick's thighs and down to his calves. Negan removed the jeans and underwear gingerly and folded them with care, along with Rick's shirt and discarded belt, placing all the items of clothing on the dresser across the room.

  
Negan returned to the edge of the bed and observed Rick who was laid spread eagle out on the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly and rhythmically. Negan titled his head to the side as he studied Rick intently. Negan thought back to the first night he had spent with Rick, cuddled up against his back, breathing in his scent. The smell of Rick was lingering in the air now and Negan was intoxicated by it. Negan licked his lips and crawled up the bed, positioning himself between Rick's thighs. He lowered himself down onto his forearms so that his chest was hovering just above Rick's crotch.

Carefully, he ducked his head down and licked a stripe up the center of Rick's stomach, starting at his pubic bone all the way up to the center of his pecs and Negan smiled at the taste. He peppered chaste, closed-mouth kisses to Rick's skin and deeply breathed in the scent of him and _oh yes, Rick is perfect for me_. Negan closed his eyes and laid his head directly over Rick's heart beat, focused on the steady thump thump thump of his pulse and the heat radiating off his skin, warming Negan's cheek. And he wanted so badly.

  
Placing one more small kiss to Rick's chest above his heart, Negan leaned back on his knees between Rick's thighs and felt himself hardening beneath the towel wrapped around his waist. He palmed himself over the fabric as he admired Rick's physic and the small pink patches that were left on Rick's chest from where Negan's beard had rubbed over the skin. The sight of the irritated skin sent a thrill through Negan and his dick pulsed against his palm because of the knowledge that he had done that to Rick, that there was evidence of him etched onto Rick's skin. And there would be more marks left, more evidence to see. Negan licked his lips, then removed the towel, impatient as ever and tired of dragging it out.

  
He tossed the towel carelessly to the floor and crawled between Rick's thighs. He kissed the soft flesh on each thigh before shifting his arms beneath Rick's knees and lifting his legs up over Negan's shoulders. Rick's hole was puckered and pink and fully on display for Negan and he'll be damned if he didn't want it. Negan placed a small kiss to Rick's hole and it fluttered in response. Negan grinned ferally before going back in again, this time with more vigor as he kissed Rick's hole again and again. Rick's dick started to get hard above Negan and that encouraged him even more, placing open mouthed, sloppy kisses against Rick and wiggling his tongue inside of him. He felt Rick begin to take in heavier breaths and as Negan leaned away he shushed Rick gently, nuzzling his left thigh and saying, “It's alright, darlin’, I've got you, don't you worry your pretty little head.”

  
Negan continued to open Rick up beneath him until he could work three fingers into him with ease and Rick's dick was fully hard and leaking. Rick's hole looked completely abused, reddened by Negan's beard and clenching and unclenching rhythmically, and Negan just couldn't get enough. He loved the taste of Rick, the way his body responded to him. Negan could hardly even imagine how good Rick would be if he was actually awake. The thought sent even more blood rushing to his dick.

  
Negan brought himself up to his knees, with Rick's legs still draped over his shoulders, and sucked a generous mark into Rick's inner left thigh. A beautiful mark bloomed under Negan's mouth as he laved his tongue over the bruise. He left one final kiss over the mark before taking himself in his hand and lining himself up with Rick's entrance. He pushed in with little resistance and Negan groaned as Rick's heat completely enveloped him, and soon he was completely sheathed within the warmth of Rick's body. Rick let out a soft sound, something like a gasp of discomfort. Negan rubbed a firm circle into Rick's hip where he was gripping him hard, wordlessly reassuring him.

  
Negan slid his hips back, pulling nearly completely out, before pushing himself back in. The only noises filling the room were Negan's soft moans and the sound of skin against skin. As Negan worked up a pace, it became more and more difficult to keep Rick's legs perched on his shoulders, the sweat beginning to form causing his legs to slip, and Rick's cock had started to soften. That just wouldn't do, Negan wanted his boy to be enjoying it too. Negan leaned down, closer to Rick's face and throat, bending Rick almost completely in half, and began to thrust into him in earnest. Rick let out a high pitched whine and Negan smiled. He snapped his hips again and Rick let out another small noise.

  
“Ya like that, baby, hm? I bet you do, takin’ it so good for me,” Negan grunted out against Rick's skin in between thrusts.

  
Negan kept up the pace, pushing himself deep into Rick's heat, reveling in the way Rick's cock had hardened again and began leaking with pleasure. And Negan wanted to taste so badly, but he also felt warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach and Rick's body was so tight and warm that Negan just couldn't pull out completely. He couldn't wait for the next time, a grin creeping up on his face as he imagined being able to taste Rick, take him apart over and over again. Negan wrapped a hand around Rick's throat as he thrust harder, hitting Rick's prostate with every stroke.

  
“Oh god, so good baby, you're so good, gonna make me come,” Negan said.

  
Negan's hips began to falter as he felt pleasure warm his stomach as he gripped Rick tightly, securing his hold around Rick's throat until he was turning purple beneath him. Sweat was plastering his hair to his forehead and the nape of his neck, his eyes closed as he chased his orgasm. It was only when Negan opened his eyes that he noticed that Rick was losing oxygen, his lips a ghastly shade of blue, and that's what pushed Negan over. Pushing into the warmth of Rick's body for the last time, Negan came with a shuddering groan, come painting Rick's insides. He shallowly thrust in and out, working himself through his orgasm, as Rick's chest began to spasm from the lack of air. Rick tried to inhale, but Negan shushed him gently, applying more pressure to his windpipe, cutting off any chance of air supply. With the last traces of pleasure gone, Negan slowly pulled out, marveling at the sight of come trickling out of Rick.

  
“Oh, what a fucking mess I've made of you, sweet boy,” Negan crooned softly, placing a finger against Rick's abused hole and watching it clench in response. He smiled. “Shit, if you're this good knocked out. you must be even better conscious.”

  
Negan removed his hand from around Rick's throat and moved to the foot of the bed to go clean himself up in the bathroom. He was moving the hair from his eyes when he noticed that Rick didn't move. Turning to look over his shoulder, Negan narrowed his eyes at Rick's still form. Worry settled at the back of his throat as the seconds ticked on and it appeared as though Rick wasn't even breathing. Negan crawled up the bed and straddled the tops of Rick's thighs and peered curiously down at Rick's face. He vaguely wondered what he would do if, in fact Rick didn't wake up. None of his ideas mattered, however, because midway through his “flee the scene” scenario, Rick's legs jerked beneath him and he gasped as though he had just come up from drowning. His face was still flushed, but not as purple as it had been. Negan nodded grimly and went to get off Rick, eyes lowered, when Rick just barely lifted a hand and touched it to Negan's wrist. Negan recoiled as though he had been burned, eyes shot up and locked onto Rick's barely opened baby blues. They were bloodshot and watery and looked ever so sad, like he couldn't even begin to fathom the undeniable hurt he was feeling.

  
Rick's mouth opened and closed multiple times, trying to form words that just couldn't come out. He began to hyperventilate and looked close to tears as he gazed up at Negan's naked form. Negan rolled his eyes and cupped the side of Rick's face.

  
“What s’matter, doll, why all the fuss, hm?” Negan asked, a nasty grin forming. Rick opened his mouth to try and answer again, but Negan wasn't having any of that. He clamped his hand on Rick's jaw and roughly jerked his face towards him, forcing Rick to look up at him through half lidded eyes. Rick tried to shake his head out of Negan's grip, but his attempt was futile and only made Negan hold onto him harder. “None of that,” Negan chided firmly. Rick tried again anyways. Negan's lip curled in disgust, pulled his hand back, and cracked his palm across the side of Rick's face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. Rick sobbed and let his head loll in the direction that Negan had hit him. Negan yanked his jaw again and snarled, “I said, _none of that."_

  
Tears streamed down the sides of Rick's face and his chest heaved up and down sharply. Negan was struck with a wave of fondness for the man beneath him; he was utterly and completely wrecked and it was because Negan had made him that way. Gently, Negan released Rick's jaw, told him not to move, but there was a subtle defiance in Rick's eyes, so Negan wrapped a hand around Rick's throat for precautionary purposes. Negan slowly leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Rick's cheek over the handprint he'd left there. Rick's breath hitched, but he held still. Negan smirked and kissed his way to Rick's lips, looking into his eyes before licking his way into Rick's mouth. Rick let out a squeal of protest, but did nothing to deter Negan. All he could do was lie back and take it. Negan bit down on Rick's bottom lip before pulling away to admire Rick's reddened, spit slicked lips. And good _god_ , was he beautiful. Negan was so tempted to keep him, but Rick had woken up and had seen him, really seen him, and spoiled Negan’s plans of keeping Rick to himself, and it wasn't safe anymore.

  
Placing his right hand over the left one, which was already situated on Rick's throat, Negan looked down at Rick with something that was almost sympathy in his eyes as he said, “Hold still, sweetheart. It'll hurt less if you don't struggle.” Then he began to squeeze.

  
Rick's eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he tried to continue to breathe, but Negan was relentless and applied more pressure. Soon, Rick was completely red in the face and his struggling against Negan was in vain, his body still largely unresponsive from being drugged. He opened his mouth like he was trying to say something, but Negan just pressed down harder. A few moments later, the struggling stopped and Rick was no longer crying and Negan was sure the deed was nearly done. His muscles bulged as he squeezed tightly one more time and grinned when Rick choked. Rick's eyes were glassy as he looked up into Negan's and the raw vulnerability in them made Negan's grip falter, giving Rick just enough air to whisper, “Negan….”. Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his chest stopped moving.

  
Negan looked down at Rick's as though he'd seen a ghost because that was the first time he'd ever heard Rick speak his name. He removed his hands from around Rick's throat and it was like the world was moving in slow motion. A familiar, cold realization washed over Negan and froze his insides because _I killed someone_ and that someone was lying in his bed. And that someone had people at home waiting for him to come back. And now Negan has to run because people will be looking for Rick, therefore looking for his killer and it had been months since the last incident.

Scrambling off Rick's motionless body, Negan stumbled to the bathroom and emptied the nights alcoholic contents into the toilet.

  
“Oh fuck,” he rasped into the porcelain bowl, because that hurt way more coming up than it did going down.

Blearily, Negan wiped his eyes and stared down at the disgusting mixture of alcohol and... blood? Negan brought his hand up to his lips and pulled his fingers back in confusion when they came away stained crimson. He began to cough violently, spewing blood into the toilet. Panicked, Negan jumped up from the floor and made a move for the door because shit, I have to get out of here, but then the world became unhinged and was turned upside down. Negan hit the floor hard, facedown in a puddle of blood, gagging. The lights in the bathroom were blindingly bright for a moment, then the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry rick, but it only gets worse. 
> 
> leave me a sweet little comment if you like where this is going, thanks for reading.


	7. negan

Negan jolted awake, his body spasming violently against the cold tile floor of the bathroom. His head was pounding and the lights were far too bright. Squinting as he tried to readjust to his surroundings, Negan groaned as aches settled in his bones. He shifted to get off the floor, but was plastered to the tiles from the puddle of blood that had pooled beneath him. Removing himself from the ground was less than pleasant, his skin pulling and stinging in the places of contact. The left side of his cheek, neck, and upper body was painted a rusted color and the blood was peeling in certain places. After a brief moment of staring off into space, the events of the night before flooded back and he got a twisted feeling in his stomach. _I didn't leave. I'm still in the hotel room. Rick is dead. Fuck fuck fuck._

  
With a renewed sense of urgency, Negan scrambled off the bathroom floor and nearly tripped in his haste to get into the main room. Rick's body was still there, pale against the sheets and unmoved since the night before. Negan almost felt a twinge of guilt, but thought nothing of it. Now wasn't the time for sympathy. And yet, despite his forced apathy, his eyes were continuously drawn to the motionless form of the man lying in the bed. He was so beautiful, it was such a shame. If Negan were a better man, he would've felt remorse. He probably wouldn't have killed the man at all. But the pleasure made him into a killer, it was inevitable, inescapable, and the unfortunate truth.

  
It was still early, the sun only having just come up, so Negan had time before room service would be by, however he wanted to put as much distance between him and Rick as he could. He didn't bother to scrub the dried blood off his chest, just the remnants clinging to his beard and neck to avoid suspicious looks. He shoved Rick's clothes, his phone, and wallet into his duffle bag, along with some hotel soaps, towels, and toothbrushes. He was about to head out the door when he remembered, where are the car keys? It was inconvenient, to put it nicely, and Negan tried to remain collected as he searched around the room. But the keys were hidden. And the longer he searched, the more aggravated he became because _honestly, where would the god damn keys be?_

  
Negan was in the process of of crawling beneath the bed and swearing obscenely when there was a rustle above him and he froze completely. For a moment, it was silent again, and Negan thought that he had imagined it. His body relaxed and he began shimmying his way out from under the bed when, again, there was a shift of fabric followed by a broken moan. Negan's eyes widened and a real sense of panic washed over him. Quietly, he moved his body from underneath the bed and peered just his eyes over the edge of the bed. And there laid Rick, tangled in the sheets, bruised, and very much alive.

  
“ _Holy_ shit,” Negan breathed to himself quietly.

  
Or maybe not as quietly as he had thought because Rick's eyes opened and he lifted his head just enough to fix them onto Negan's. They were glassy at first, but then sharpened and turned icy.

  
“You….” Rick tried, his voice sounding broken and rough. He tried to sit up, but only managed to roll onto his side, hanging somewhat off the side of the bed.

  
Negan was still in utter and total shock. “But you're supposed to be dead,” he said, tripping over himself, trying to get away from the ghost of the man he had killed the night before.

  
Rick made a sound low in the back of his throat and glared at Negan with absolute malice, and if looks could kill, Negan would already be shaking hands with the devil himself. Rick's body language was akin to that of a wounded animal ready to fight for its life, his shoulders curled in on himself and looking predatory and for a brief moment, Negan actually feared for his well-being. And then Rick lunged at him, catching Negan off guard, wrestling him to the floor. In that quick moment of being caught off guard, Rick had gotten on top of Negan and was trying to pin him, a nearly crazed look in his eyes. But Rick was still weak from the night before, and Negan took advantage, flipping Rick onto his back, wrapping his hands around Rick's already bruised throat and pushing his knee into Rick's ribs. Rick wheezed and grabbed ahold of Negan's wrists to keep them from crushing his windpipe and thrashed beneath him, trying to throw him off. It took more effort to hold Rick down this time, considering the fact that he wasn't out of his mind drugged, however Negan still managed to overpower him, digging his knee further into Rick's rib cage.

  
“For fucks sake, you're a scrappy little shit ain't ya?” Negan chuckled, continuing to wrestle Rick down.

  
Rick didn't reply, but instead hocked back a wad of saliva and spit it into Negan's face. The spittle dripped down Negan's cheek and down his chin.

  
Negan lips curled into a feral grin. “You're gonna pay for that,” he promised and there was flash of fear on Rick's face, but was immediately replaced by the previous hatred and his struggling resumed.

  
Negan took his left hand off Rick's throat and Rick tried to lunge up, seeing the ease in pressure as an opportunity to gain back the upper hand. But he was mistaken. Negan slapped Rick across the face hard enough to cease the movements for a moment and Rick fell back against the floor hard. His eyes were unfocused, but when they landed on Negan, the heated gaze was back and he tried to get back up. Negan closed his fist this time, and punched Rick in the face. Once, then twice, then over and over until he couldn't tell whose blood was whose. His knuckles were as raw as Rick's face.

  
When Rick finally stopped fighting against Negan, Negan straddled himself across Rick's waist, pinning him to the ground with his weight. He leaned down close to Rick's face, so close that they were breathing the same hot air. Rick was thrashing and grunting, but Negan held him in place. He smiled gently down at Rick, then licked a stripe up Rick's bloodied cheek, nipping at the bruises beginning to form. Rick tried to tilt his head away, but Negan bit down, hard, holding him in place. Rick flinched, but didn't try to break away. Negan let go and placed soft, soothing kisses to the bite mark.

  
“I'm gonna lean back now, don't you fucking move, or else you're not gonna like the outcome,” Negan whispered against his skin. Rick didn't reply, but when Negan moved back so he could look Rick in the eyes, he stayed still. There was defiance in Rick's eyes, but Negan smiled down at him sweetly, regardless.

  
Caressing a hand over Rick's bruised cheek softly, Negan sighed as he said, “Now look at whatcha made me do, darling. Had to go and ruin that beautiful face of yours.” Rick bared his teeth and the softness left Negan's eyes almost immediately. He made a move to strike Rick again, but Rick quieted down, though it looked like it pained him to do so. “There's a good little boy,” Negan crooned. “You gonna be good for me, baby, hm?”

  
Rick clenched his jaw and refused to respond. His silent defiance made Negan's hands itch again, however it wouldn't do much of anything for either of them to beat Rick into a bloody pulp. And from the looks of their current situation, it didn't seem like Rick was keen on dying any time soon. Negan pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned as the gravity of the situation settled on him. He very well couldn't leave Rick and make a run for it, but if he tried to off him, there was a real chance that he would be overpowered. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Negan knew what he had to do, but was less than thrilled about the liability that Rick would become.

  
Carding his fingers through Rick's hair, Negan tightened his grip on the strands and yanked Rick's head back, exposing his throat and keeping him immobile. Rick yelped, his eyes watering, and Negan felt a sick twinge of pleasure run down his spine.

  
“Listen here, doll,” Negan started, making sure he made eye contact with Rick. “You've really thrown a wrench in my plan, being as you're alive and all.” He paused. “And normally, I'd just beat your brains out onto this here floor, but I'm thinkin’ of other ways I can use you. So, from now on, because I know you'd go rat on me in a heartbeat, and we can't have that, you belong to me.”

  
“Like hell I do,” Rick gritted out.

  
Negan clicked his tongue. “Don't make me cut that pretty little tongue out,” he threatened before continuing. “Now, what's gonna happen is, you're gonna do whatever I tell you, you got that? You stay in my sight, otherwise, when I find you, I'll kill you where you stand. You don't eat without my permission. You don't make calls without my permission. You don't _shit_ without my permission. You're mine, I own you. That's the way it's gonna be.”

  
He glared down at Rick and Rick returned the gaze with equal ferocity. Keeping Rick was going against every rule that Negan had made for himself, and he felt like he may come to regret that, but he also felt that he was being given a chance to have something good in his life.

  
While Negan was marveling down at Rick, Rick began fidgeting again, trying to throw Negan off, and quite honestly Negan was tired of it. He punched Rick over the head again and reached over to his duffle bag, rummaging around inside. Rick was still whimpering and trying to stop the world from spinning when he was facing down the end of a barbed wire baseball bat. Immediately he froze.

  
“I'm not havin’ anymore of your games, sweetheart.” He pressed the tip of the bat to Rick's lower lip, the spikes of the wire poking into his chin. “This is Lucille. Say hi to Lucille,” Negan said smiling down at Rick. “Now, either you get with the program, or you get your brains bashed out. It's your choice.”

  
Rick squeezed his eyes shut as his lips moved wordlessly, like a prayer, and Negan was tempted to just get rid of him right now. Negan pressed the bat against Rick’s face harder, when Rick opened his eyes; they were dry.

  
“Why are you doing this?” he whispered quietly.

  
Negan laughed mirthlessly. “That's a story for the road.” He got off Rick, Lucille still aimed at his head. “Come on, up you go, we're leavin’ now.”

  
Rick looked hesitant, but started to get up. That devious glint returned to his eye, and Negan tightened his grip on the bat. 

  
“No funny business, keep those hands where I can see ‘em,” Negan ordered, keeping his eyes trained on Rick as he leaned down to pick up his bag.

  
“We can't leave without my clothes,” Rick said, his voice unwavering, despite his nakedness.

  
Negan rolled his eyes and set his bag down again before moving to the side table to retrieve the remainder of Rick's clothes that he hadn't grabbed in his haste. He had emptied the pockets of their contents the night before, so there was nothing that Rick could potentially use as a weapon, but Negan wanted to get to the task of dehumanizing Rick quickly because if Rick felt as though he was less than a person, he would easily be a kept boy, easily follow Negan's commands. He flicked Lucille in a come hither motion, holding Rick's clothes tucked under his arm.

  
“I'm going to dress you, get over here,” Negan said, grinning inwardly at the horrified look coming over Rick's face.

  
“I can dress myself,” he huffed defiantly, but when he caught the look that Negan was giving him, he slowly shuffled over.

  
“Good boy, you're learning already,” Negan said.

  
Negan gave himself a mental pat on the back because Rick was blushing from head to toe as he dressed him. Rick’s eyes were lowered as well so he wouldn't have to meet the smug look on Negan's face. If they were in a different universe, the act of dressing Rick would've been something sensual, perhaps even romantic, however, in this context, it was an act of animalistic possession. It was the starting place of the breaking down of Rick's will, bending him until he breaks completely, and ends up kneeling, submissive, at Negan's feet.

  
When the final button of Rick's denim shirt was buttoned, the bruised indents of Negan's fingertips peeked out above the collar. The sight of the marks made Negan's insides warm. He touched them gingerly, watching carefully for Rick's reaction. Other than a tick of his jaw, his face remained unreadable. But, when Negan slotted his fingers against the marks and squeezed Rick's throat; he flinched and his breathing quickened. Negan smiled at that.

  
He picked Lucille from where he had propped her against the bed to dress Rick and pressed her to Rick's cheek, watching in amusement as Rick nervously tried to follow the movement of the bat. Negan leaned in close to Rick, the two of them almost the same height, their lips nearly slotted together, and quirked his lips into a grin.

  
“Beg me,” Negan breathed out against Rick's lips, the hot air mingling between them.

  
Rick took a deep breath, and at first Negan was sure that Rick was going to defy him. But all Negan had to do was press Lucille to Rick's face a little harder and it was enough to coax a response out of him.

  
“Please…” Rick whispered.

  
“‘Please’ what?” Negan prodded.

  
“Please, please don't hurt me, I- please.”  
Rick's begging was almost inaudible and he was blushing with shame and it sent a deep roll of pleasure through Negan's stomach. He gripped the back of Rick's head with his right hand, and crashed their lips together, kissing him roughly and possessively. Rick didn't kiss back, but that was expected. He would learn in time.

  
As Negan leaned away, removing Lucille from the side of Rick's face, suppressing a laugh as Rick's shoulders visibly slumped down and relaxed, he spied a little black object nestled in the covers on the floor that had been wrapped around Rick. Negan narrowed his eyes and sidestepped Rick, who was fixing Negan with a nervous expression. Upon closer inspection, the object was, in fact, the car keys. Negan closed his hand around them and felt his blood begin to boil.

  
He turned to face Rick, looking down at the keys in his hands, then up at Rick. Rick expected to find a look of anger on Negan's face, however, instead it was fairly neutral, confused if anything at all.  
“Rick,” he began, and he was so calm, “were you trying to hide these from me?”

  
“No, how could I when you had me drugged all night?” Rick spit back, eyes fiery.

  
Negan swung Lucille around, pointing her at Rick's face so fast, the man didn't even have a chance to blink before she was looking him between the eyes. Rick's eyebrows shot up as he raised his hands and cautiously stepped backwards, away from Negan. They stepped in tandem, each step Rick took backwards, Negan took forwards, until Rick's back was against the wall and Lucille was a hairsbreadth away from the top of Rick's head. “Don't get smart with me,” Negan snarled, his lips curling. “Now, since I'm such a fucking gentleman, I'm gonna ask you one more time, were you tryna hide these from me?” Rick wet his lips nervously and his breathing quickened as his eyes met the cold stare in Negan's.  “Don't make me smash your pretty little brains out onto this god damn wall,” Negan threatened, low in his throat, yet still remaining unsettlingly calm.

  
“I - no, I was….you were looking for them, and I grabbed them and-” Rick was tripping over his words. Negan rolled his eyes and placed Lucille against Rick's head. Rick's rambling cut off with a sharp gasp as he squeezed his eyes shut. “No, no, no look! Look, I wasn't trying to leave - I wasn't, I wasn't.”

  
Negan eyed Rick carefully, tilting his head to the side as he regarded him. Negan wasn't an idiot, he had a pretty good idea about what Rick was really trying to do. However, he could only use empty threats so many times before Rick realized that they were empty and get some more bright ideas, like trying to abandon him in favor of the police. Negan clicked his tongue and tapped Lucille gently against Rick's head, not hard enough to cause any real damage. But by the grimace in Rick's face, it wasn't a pleasant feeling either.

  
“I do _not_ think that you are telling me the truth, doll,” Negan began and when Rick opened his mouth to refute him, Negan shushed him harshly. “But I don't have time to argue with you.” Negan lowered Lucille from Rick's head and crossed the room to retrieve his duffle bag, caressing his girl before laying her back at the bottom of the bag. “Get your things, get to the car, and don't make fucking a scene. I ain't gonna tell ya twice.”

  
Rick swallowed thickly, still pressed up against the wall, but nodded his understanding. Silently and with some hesitation, head lowered like a scolded puppy, Rick shuffled around the room, picking up random discarded items like his socks and belt and shoes. When Rick sat on the edge of the bed to tie his shoes, he winced and gingerly tried to readjust his position. Negan felt that it probably wasn't for show or for sympathy, but still fought back the urge to chastise Rick for being so blatant about his discomfort. After all, hadn't Negan been kind enough to prep him? Hadn’t Negan been merciful enough to let Rick leave with his life? Negan worked his jaw in irritation. Rick was such an ungrateful boy. But that would change, Negan would be sure of that. Rick was going to get a good, thorough lesson of what being a good boy meant as soon as they left this god forsaken hotel room.

  
When Rick finally finished his pitiful show of tying his shoes, Negan dragged Rick over and forced him to stare at Lucille, reminding him of what would happened if he tried to draw attention to the pair of them. Shoving him away roughly, Negan shouldered his bag again and looked back at Rick, wordlessly telling him that it was time to get moving. Rick’s whole body was pulled taut with tension, every fiber of his body screaming at him not to leave. his shoulders were hunched over in an attempt to make himself seem smaller than he actually was and it made Negan remember that night in the motel when Rick was curled up tightly beneath the covers. It struck Negan with a familiar wave of fondness that he felt only when gazing at Rick. Negan softened his glare and crossed the room to where Rick was standing. He reached out, ignoring the way Rick flinched away from him, and carefully caressed Rick cheek, hooking his hand around Rick’s ear to grip the back of his neck.

  
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Negan said. Rick was avoiding looking at him, so Negan tightened his grip and turned Rick’s head so that their eyes met. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” Negan reiterated. “You just gotta be a good boy and listen to what I tell you, okay? Can you do that for me, honey? Can you be a good boy for me?”

  
Negan felt Rick’s jaw tick against his palm and watched Rick's eyes flash dangerously as he refused to answer. A small part of Negan hoped that he would find some glimmer of softness in Rick's eyes to match the softness in his own, but it was a foolish hope. Negan hardened his stare and roughly maneuvered Rick in front of him and out the door. Taking one final glance back at the hotel room, it didn't look like a murder was attempted. Perhaps just a party had taken place that has gotten out of hand.

  
As they made their way down into the lobby and out to the parking garage, Rick did as he was told and didn't draw any attention to them, however it may have had something to do with the hand firmly resting on his lower back serving as a reminder. To an outsider, they appeared as a couple, Negan smiling at passerbys and being polite to strangers, acting as a doting husband or boyfriend to Rick. No one spared them more than a polite nod.

  
When they were in the safety of the car and pulling onto the highway, Negan released a breath he didn't realize that he was holding. He spared a glance over at Rick, who was staring forlornly out the window, eyes shining with tears unshed. Negan wasn't sure how long he would be able to tolerate Rick, especially not if he planned to continue to be defiant. Rick didn't speak the whole ride; he didn't even move his gaze from out the window. Negan supposed it was for the best. He didn't have to put up with Rick asking questions. And it meant that he could put off explaining himself to Rick for a while longer. So Negan just drove. And Rick just stared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back  
> back again  
> rick is back  
> he's not dead


	8. rick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last pre-written chapter; sorry babes. after this, unfortunately, updates won't be as quick. never fear! the story isn't over yet.

They drove all day, without stopping, unless it was for gas, and Rick was determined to stay awake for the duration of the ride. He wanted to remember the turns they took, the exit ramps they drove off of, the gas stations they stopped at, all in the hopes of being able to leave a breadcrumb trail so that someone might one day find him. Also, he didn't know what the man might do if he were to nod off. The thought of a repeat of the night before made his insides cold. So, he ignored the burning in his eyes, begging him to close them, and continued to make a mental map of their scenery.

  
They drove for hours in silence, though not for the man's lack of effort. Every few miles, he would attempt to instigate conversation with Rick, but Rick refused. He didn't even glance in the man’s direction, just clenched his jaw and kept staring out the window. Every time he ignored the man, Rick felt the tension in the air thicken. It got harder to breathe, harder to focus when Rick could feel the heat of the man’s gaze against his cheek every so often, daring him to turn his head. Rick couldn't help the blush that began to form and deepen under the harsh scrutiny of the man’s careful eyes and it made him sick when he heard the soft chuckle rumble from the man's chest.

  
“I love that blush, sweetheart,” the man said, admiration tinging his voice. Out of his peripheral vision, Rick could see the man remove his hand from the steering wheel and reach over. Rick tried to shift away, but there was hardly anywhere for him to go. He swallowed his discomfort as the man gently traced his fingertips along the blush marking Rick's throat. “Such a pretty color. You blush from head to toe.” The man paused, trailing a hand down from Rick's neck, down his chest. Rick sucked in a nervous breath, his eyes falling slightly shut. “And those nipples, such a pretty pink color when you pinch ‘em just rig-”.

  
“Stop it,” Rick said, his voice raising in pitch as he slapped the man's hand away frantically. His breathing was erratic, his cheeks were hot and he felt as though he was suffocating.

  
The man's hand hovered a few centimeters from Rick’s chest, so close that Rick could feel the heat radiating from it. Panic closed Rick's airways when the man didn't speak, didn't move his hand back, but fixed Rick with a most incredulous look for as long as possible before he turned his eyes back to the road. His eyes may have been on the road, but his attention wasn't. Rick sat in terrified silence as they drove on. He lifted his eyes and risked a glance at the man behind the wheel and the expression he wore was enough to make Rick nauseous. It was the same stony expression he was wearing when he pressed the bat to Rick's head. It reminded Rick of storm-ridden skies and the taste of poison; dangerous things.

  
“I- I'm sorry,” Rick tried, out of sheer desperation. “I didn't mean- I didn't….”

  
The words were spilling out of his mouth, but he couldn't form a coherent thought. He was full of fear. Rick was prayerful that his apology had been enough to placate the man, but instead it seemed to enrage him further. Rick watched in muted horror as the man ground his teeth together, gripped the wheel so tight that it creaked, and swerved three lanes over to an exit leading to a rest stop. They pulled into a parking spot behind garbage bins, a little ways away from the heavy flow of people, yet close enough that they could be seen by anyone wandering. His eyes darted around, looking for an escape, trying to figure out a way to subtly draw attention to himself. As he glanced down at his thighs, Rick realized that the passenger door was unlocked. Sparing a discreet glance at the man, who was hunched over the steering wheel, Rick decided that he didn't have time for a plan; he just needed to run.

  
Lightly, Rick placed a hand on the door handle as he kept his eyes trained on the man. Just as he was ready to bolt, the man jolted up from the wheel and slammed a hand on the lock. And just like that, Rick lost his chance. The man was breathing heavily, as though he was trying to calm himself, his eyes closed, head tipped back against the headrest.

  
“Oh, Rick,” the man laughed. “I thought you might be a bit slow, but god damn. Really?”

  
Before Rick could even think to ask what that was supposed to mean, the man lunged at him, grabbing his neck from behind and forcing him into the dashboard. Rick struggled, but was reduced immobile when the man wrenched Rick's left arm behind him and pushed his right arm into the door. The man slithered over the armrest and placed his knee in the small of Rick's back.

  
“What makes you think that you can tell me to stop, hm?” he hissed venomously in Rick's ear. The man twisted Rick's arm harder just to hear him whimper. “What makes you think you can just run away, just like that, huh? What the fuck don't you understand about ‘I own you now’? You think I didn't see you tryna slip out? Oh honey, you are all beauty and no goddamn brains.” A tear leaked out the corner of Rick's eye as he tried to push up and out of the man's grip, but the man held fast and dug his knee further into Rick's back.

  
“Can't breathe,” Rick gasped. “P-please...I can- I can't-”.

  
“Better get used to that,” the man husked from behind him.

  
A broken sob escaped Rick's lips as he shut his eyes tightly to keep more tears from spilling over and tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. No sooner had he managed to calm himself when he heard a soft moan come from behind him. Rick let himself be still in the hopes that the man would stop, that he wasn't doing what he thought he was. But then the man began to rock his hips into Rick's back and the panic bubbled up from Rick's chest all over again.

  
Rick bucked up against the man mid-thrust, throwing off his rhythm and balance, as he renewed his struggle to get away. But the man had the upper hand with more leverage and slammed Rick back onto the dashboard so hard that the wind got knocked out of him and made him see stars. He sucked in harsh, broken breaths as he tried to fill his lungs with air, his body shuddering under the pressure in his chest. This time, Rick couldn't stop the tears from falling.

  
The man moaned again as he continued his slow grind against Rick's back, tossing his head back as the pleasure coiled up his spine. Rick felt bile rise in the back of his throat and couldn't ignore the hardened bulge beneath the man's pants that continued to move against him. The man never quickened his torturously slow pace, yet he did get more forceful, pushing his hips harder against Rick's back, forcing Rick further against the dashboard. Rick tried to hold back his noises of discomfort, fearing it would encourage the man. However, after the sporadic press then release of his chest against the dashboard, he couldn't contain the sound of pain that was pushed from him. Immediately, he clamped his lips shut, but the damage had already been done. The man groaned louder than before and jerked his hips roughly against Rick. Rick felt the man's cock twitch against his back and he wanted to vomit. He made an involuntary gagging noise and the man moaned again.

  
“Ah, baby, love those pretty noises you make,” the man said breathily, tightening his grip on Rick's arm as he continued to rock against him. “C’mon, sweetheart, make that noise again. You wanna get me off, huh? Get me off and we can keep drivin’, come on, come on- _ah_ \- that's right, sweet boy.”

  
Rick wanted to be defiant, he didn't want to let this man have what he wanted. But it hurt too bad. He felt so disgusted with himself, so upset that he was being degraded and reduced to this, a whimpering, sobbing mess. He wanted to fight again, to throw the man off and run, just run until he couldn't anymore. It didn't even matter if no one helped him, he just wanted to be free from here. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. So he let more tears fall free and he let himself sob, abandoning all his pride. He made tiny noises of protest every time he was rocked into the dashboard, the plastic biting into his bruises and restricting his breathing, and tried not to focus on the moaning coming from behind him.

  
“Such a pretty little slut you are, look at you, moaning like a fucking whore,” the man gasped, grinding harder into Rick. “Gonna make me come, baby. You wanna make me come, huh? Such a good slut - oh, oh - fuck yes - _ah_.”

  
Tears blurred Rick's vision as he forced himself to keep making little pained noises. Rick had no idea how long this had been going on, all he knew is that he would do anything to make this end. After a particularly hard thrust, Rick reached deep inside himself to grip hold of any courage he had left, and used it to push a moan past his lips instead of a sound of pain. He felt the man's hips falter in their rhythm at the sudden change of demeanor and Rick could guess that he was getting close. He forced himself to moan again; he sounded like he was enjoying himself.

  
“Oh fuck, baby, yeah so fucking good. Don't it feel good? Such a good little whore you are.”

  
“‘m a whore,” Rick slurred, spit running down his chin, mingling with the tears and snot running down his face. He felt the man's cock jump against him again as he let out a low noise of pleasure in the back of his throat. “I'm jus’ a whore, a….fuckin’ slut,” Rick whispered.

  
“That's right, baby, you're nothin’ but a dirty slut, and you're all mine, ain't you?” Rick made a noise of affirmation and that was all it took. The man picked up his pace, grinding his hips into Rick so hard he was rocking the breath from Rick's lungs. Rick cried out in sync with the man's final moan and then he felt warmth pooling against his back as the man's cock pulsed against him. The man continued to grind himself into Rick's back through his release, until he finally stilled and collapsed on Rick's back with a satiated sigh. He kissed the back of Rick's flushed, damp neck sweetly, as if they had just finished making love.

  
“Such a good boy for me,” he mouthed against Rick's skin, darting his tongue out to taste the sweat that lingered there.

  
Rick didn't reply, just continued to whimper and shake beneath the man, disgusted with himself for his weakness, for allowing himself to be used this way. His bones felt so heavy within his body, anchoring him in place. He didn't have the will to push the man away, not when everything hurt so much. So he just lay pressed up against the dashboard and focused on steadying his breathing. He tried not to be repulsed when the man's breathing was even with his own.

  
Whether it was minutes or hours later, Rick didn't know, when the man finally peeled himself away from Rick and collapsed onto the driver's seat with a content sigh. Rick closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to witness the grin that creeped onto the man's face. He shifted himself off the dashboard with a groan and was hit with a wave of lightheadedness as he took his first unrestricted breath of air in a while. Rick collapsed in on himself and turned his back to the man as he rested his head on the window forlornly, tears prickling his eyes. He felt so exhausted and didn't want to cry anymore, but no matter how he tried to control himself, the tears came anyway. And they didn't stop.

  
He felt the man shift behind him, causing Rick to curl in on himself even more, wrapping his arms around himself and his shoulder shook from repressed sobs.

  
“Oh, shit,” he heard the man say, but it sounded far away. “Are you crying? Seriously?”

  
Rick wanted to scream, but he couldn't take another beating. Or another fucking. So he stayed quiet and tried to focus on anything but the presence of the man behind him.

  
He felt the man touch his shoulder and faintly registered the sound of words being spoken to him, but Rick couldn't take it. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. Rick began to take in deeper breaths, releasing them with a sob as he felt a blanket of panic suffocating him. The world was fucking spinning, he couldn't see straight. Rick grasped for the handle of the passenger side door, pulling and pulling, not understanding why it wouldn't open. His panic increased, his breaths turning into hyperventilation as he desperately yanked on the door handle.

  
“Rick…”

  
Rick jerked away from the touch on his shoulder, fingers shaking as he fumbled for the lock. He couldn't get a grip on it, he couldn't see, the world was closing in on him and he couldn't breathe. Tears flooded his vision as he tried and tried but to no avail. Fresh tears fell down his cheeks when the car backed out of the parking spot and began to drive back onto the highway. He watched with unseeing eyes as they drove past men and women and families and _people_. People who could help him. Rick pulled on the door handle again and pounded his hand against the glass, trying to draw someone's attention to him. This caused the man to curse under his breath and push down the accelerator, speeding them away from the rest stop with a screech. Rick sobbed as they pulled back into the traffic of the highway. He looked into the cars they sped past, struck with a profound despair. To anyone else he looked like a passenger, no one would spare him a second glance. He was just a person in a car, with a life, and no one knew. No one knew that he was trapped, that he didn't belong here with this man. No one knew, how could anyone help him? Rick felt a fresh wave a panic drown him with the realization that he couldn't easily be helped, that no one knew he needed help.

  
He had succumbed to this reality, so far in his head that he didn't register the man shouting at him until a hand gripped the back of his neck and jerked him away from the window.

  
“What the _fuck_ is the matter with you?” the man yelled. “What the actual fuck did you think you were doing?”

  
The man continued shouting questions at Rick until he was red in the face and nearly caused three accidents. Rick was dazed and unresponsive, his eyes glassy. He couldn't even begin to comprehend the words spewing from the man's lips, his mind was stuck in a shocked litany of _no one knows, no one knows, no one knows._

  
“Are you even listening to me?” Rick felt the words ghost over his face, but couldn't formulate a response. He looked over and locked eyes with those of the man behind the wheel and _oh god_ the intensity behind them was enough to have Rick terrified and intrigued. But the intensity soon bled away as Rick searched the man's face and was replaced with an odd softness that usually came about when Rick had done something the man found endearing. It was enough to make Rick sick.

  
“Y’know what,” the man began gruffly. “ I'm gonna give you somethin’ to do so you don't go causing any more trouble.”

  
Rick watched in dumbstruck horror as the man undid his belt and lifted himself up off the seat, haphazardly yanked his pants down his thighs. Rick tried to make himself as small as possible, crowding himself into the door as the man pulled his cock out. It was still sticky with drying come from earlier.

  
The man shot him a murderous glare as he said, “You're gonna clean me up, then you're gonna suck me until I come past those pretty pink lips and down your throat. And you're gonna take it all and not spit. Good boys don't spit.”

  
Rick was horrified. It wasn't enough for the man to drug him and use his body while he was unconscious. It wasn't enough to trap him between a rock and a hard place and lie limply beneath the man as he took what he wanted. Now he wanted Rick active and participating and _giving_. It was more than Rick could bear.

  
“Please don't make me,” he whispered, lowering his eyes in shame. He felt his face get hot and prayed that he would stop blushing; he found out unpleasantly what it did to the man, he didn't want his displeasure to be misinterpreted. “I'll let you use me how- however you want tonight,” It was a desperate plea, one that Rick had no desire to fulfill, but the thought of being degraded in public like this made his insides cold. “Just please don't make me do this.”

  
The man threw his head back and laughed wildly as if Rick had just told the funniest joke. But the laugh was harsh and without mirth. Rick felt his blush deepen as his stomach sank.

  
“Of course you'll let me use you however I want. Tonight, tomorrow, and the day after that,” the man exclaimed. “I own you. And this is how I'm gonna use you right now. Now lean over and suck my cock.”

  
Rick hesitated, his mind wildly trying to come up with a way out of this situation. He was aware that when he lowered his head, he wouldn't be back up quickly. He would miss the exits taken, any recognizable land markers, important things needed to leave a trail to him. How would anyone be able to find him if he couldn't lead them to him? How would he ever get home if he didn't even know the direction that home was? Rick was frantic. He could refuse or retaliate or throw himself onto the highway, but none of those options boded very well for Rick. Once again, he was trapped, cornered by this man.

  
The man allowed Rick to have his internal crisis without saying a word, simply holding his soft cock with his right hand. He glanced at Rick out of the corners of his eyes, a smirk playing about his lips as Rick's eyes grew wet again.

  
“Please,” Rick tried again, nearly inaudible. “Please don't make me.”

  
The man huffed in annoyance, grabbed Rick by his collar, and yanked him face first into his lap. Rick let out a surprised yelp as his stomach caught against the center console, forcing his lower body to be twisted in an uncomfortable position. His lips grazed over the tip of the man's dick as he fell into the man's lap. Rick recoiled immediately, the taste enough to make him gag, trying to move away, but the man held fast.

  
“I am not going to tell you again,” the man said above Rick's head, not taking his eyes off the road. He moved his hand from the front of Rick's shirt to the back of his head, using his grip on the curled strands to guide Rick towards his cock again.

  
“N-no, I don't want- stop!” Rick was struggling against the grip on the back of his head, pulling away from the man's lap, but it was to no avail. He was in too small a space with not enough leverage; there was nowhere for him to escape to. The strain on his neck from arching it away was too much to maintain. And try as he might, he just couldn't. With a defeated gasp, he stopped struggling and was pushed forcefully onto the man's thigh, just inches away from his cock.  
The man shifted his hips forward, and Rick pursed his lips defiantly, cringing when the soft cockhead rubbed over his lips.

  
“Open your fucking mouth,” the man growled above him, clenching his fist in the tuft of Rick's hair for emphasis.

  
Rick's blue eyes flashed with malice and pushed his lips together even tighter.  
The man pounded his fist swiftly and deftly into Rick's temple, then resumed his grip on the back of his head, gripping so tightly it made Rick's eyes water. Rick let out a small cry as he saw stars and felt his heartbeat in his head where he was struck.

  
“I _said_ , open your _fucking_ mouth,” the man snarled, pulling Rick's head back so that their eyes met. “Open.”

  
Rick looked up through half-lidded eyes, his lips slightly parted. Their eyes locked with a strange curiosity and something akin to grudging respect, although the current situation was far from respectful or consensual. It was intense and heated and their contact made Rick want to break away, but he couldn't submit to this man. This coward of a man, a shell of a person. So he closed his lips deliberately, clenched his jaw, and steeled himself for the blow that would follow.

  
But that blow never came. Instead, a sickening smile crept up the man's face and Rick felt himself go quite still.

  
“And I suppose,” the man began lowly, his voice a soft, velvet purr. “You're hoping that someone will come for you, is that it? Someone like, hm, Lori maybe?” Rick felt panic bubbling in his throat because _how could he possibly know?_ “Or maybe your boy will miss you being gone so long, he'll ask mama where daddy is? Maybe he'll ask your buddy Shane to go bring his daddy back home? Hm?”

  
Rick winced as the man relaxed his grip in his hair, only to quickly tighten his fist again, and felt his chest tighten at the mention of Carl.

  
“Let me explain something to you, honey,” the man continued with a disconcerting sense of nonchalance as he absentmindedly relaxed and tightened his fist. “No one knows that you're here with me. No one is coming for you, I'm takin’ us somewhere where no one will find you until I'm ready for you to be found.” His lips quirked. “And they won't be findin’ you alive, sugar. So, how about you stop trying to fight me about this and enjoy your time while you still have breath in your lungs.”

  
Rick closed his eyes and counted back from ten, focusing on keeping his breathing even. He saw Carl smiling at him from behind his eyelids and his heart ached.

  
Above him, he heard the man give a delighted little laugh. Hesitantly, Rick opened his eyes as the man said, “I’ve just had the most wonderful idea, Rick.” Rick was sure it was a long way from wonderful. “How’s about you and I pay your family a visit, hm? You think they'd like that? Do you want to explain what happens when daddy loves someone very much? Or should I?” The grin that spread across the man's face was devilish.

  
“Don't bring them into this,” Rick rumbled, low in his throat.

  
“What do think they'd like more? Having ‘em watch me beat the ever loving shit outta you, or me fucking you til you're begging me to let you come?” the man continued, as if Rick had never even said a word. He paused as if to mull over the possibilities. “Or maybe, I'll kill ‘em right in front of you, lay you down in their blood nice and easy, and make you suck me til I come all over that pretty face of yours.”

  
“Don't you fucking dare-”

  
“They down in Georgia right? Saw it on your driver's license, since you were so reluctant to share. It would only take us a few days to get there, a few days for them to live, huh?”

  
That was it for Rick. He was _livid_ , seeing red. He knew. About his family, about Carl, his pride and joy. His boy….he couldn't let this man touch his boy. Rick sunk his teeth into the man's thigh, causing the smug grin to distort into a painful grimace as a shout escaped his lips. He howled and yanked at Rick's hair, but Rick was relentless, he sunk his teeth in deeper. He felt the car swerve dangerously and heard the screech of tires and horns honking and the man swearing viciously above him.

  
“You fucking bitch!” the man yelled, tugging Rick's head this way and that, trying to dislodge his teeth from his thigh. Rick growled in reply and clenched his jaw tighter, causing the man to shout obscenities. The man pushed his palm flat against Rick's face, applying pressure to his bruises, as he tried to force Rick's neck into an uncomfortable twist to get him to let go. Rick felt his grip slipping, so he balanced himself as best as he could over the center console and brought his left hand up to push against the man's shoulder. He felt the car swerve again and faintly registered that this could get him killed, but at this point, that wasn't a priority. He wasn't going to give in, just let this man threaten him and beat him into submission. Rick tightened his jaw and pushed harder against the man, reaching blindly upwards until he could grip the man's neck and squeeze.

  
The two grappled back and forth for a fair amount of time before Rick got too ambitious and reached up to push against the man's chin, forcing his chin up. But his fingers were within proximity to the man's lips; the man took advantage and bit down of Rick's fingers. Hard.

  
Rick screamed, his mouth detaching itself from the man's thigh, his hand recoiling away from the man to cradle his wounded fingers. The man then fixed his right hand around Rick's throat and forced his face upwards so that he couldn't try to bite him again once he regained his wits. Rick gasped as his air supply was cut off. He weakly tried to remove the man's grip from him, but his fingers were useless and in pain and he couldn't breathe properly.

  
The man held fast and squeezed until Rick was red in the face, lips agape, begging for air. The man let go, giving Rick enough time for one heavy inhale, before the man grabbed the back of his head and forced his cock into Rick's mouth. Rick choked.

  
“If you even _think_ about biting me again, you fuck, I'll blow your _god damned_ brains out on this very _god damned_ highway,” the man rasped, tilting his hips up as his cock hardened in Rick's mouth. Rick gagged at the intrusion in his mouth, the taste of salt and sweat and drying come overloading his senses. The man leaned over Rick's body, fumbling for something in the glove compartment while Rick's breath was completely cut off. Like hell he wasn't going to fight back though, so Rick braced himself for the imminent fallout that would result due to his actions. He worked his jaw around the disgusting taste flooding his tongue and prepared himself to bite down, his vision already going blurry around the edges for being held down so long. However, just as Rick's teeth began to graze against the man's member, he was yanked away and something entirely different was placed in his mouth. He couldn't decide whether to be relieved or terrified by the cool piece of metal resting against his tongue. He heard the safety click off as the barrel was pushed more insistently into his mouth.

  
“You think I'm playin’ games with you? Huh? Is that it?” the man snarled, his lips curling. He jerked the gun against the roof of Rick's mouth, causing Rick to inhale sharply as he tried to recoil away from it. “Does this still look like a _fuckin’ game_ to you?”

  
Spit dribbled down Rick's chin, running down his neck as he sputtered around the gun. His eyes watered and he felt tears trace their way down his face. The worst part of this wasn't being kidnapped. It wasn't being used. It wasn't being taken advantage of. It was the fact that he had survived years of serving the town as sheriff, a bullet to the torso, the loss of his mental health and his family, all to be brought to ruin by this sadistic being. And it could have been avoided too. _If only I weren't a complete fool._ Perhaps Rick deserved this. Maybe this was his punishment for leaving Carl behind. Rick sighed as well as he could around the gun pressed into his mouth as he resigned to his fate. He almost felt at peace. If he had to die, well, it would be quick, a lot quicker than some other deaths he's seen. And when he looked up at the man, looking him right in the eyes, there was no fear. There was a calm.

  
“You gonna behave now?” the man said, readjusting his grip against the trigger, mistaking the calm in Rick's eyes for submission.

  
Rick heaved out a heavy breath, snot falling from his nose, mixing with the trail of tears and spit pooling on his chin and dripping onto the man’s pants. He made no response and steadied himself for the jerk of the gun that would end his life. It was fine. It was what he deserved.

  
The man's face contorted into an ugly sneer. “You dumb bitch.”

  
He moved so quickly that Rick has no time to process what was happening. One moment the gun was in his mouth. The next it was gone and the world went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor rick. if only he had listened to his gut and got rid of negan when he had the chance. 
> 
> can you figure out why rick goes back to referring to negan as 'the man' instead of by his name???


	9. rick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been brought to my attention that it's been a month since the last update, i'm so sorry lovelies. i made sure to make this one long, hopefully it'll last you until the next update.

When Rick came to, hours had passed. It was twilight, the horizon bleeding into the blue black of the night, the sun resting her head until a new day arose. He groaned, rubbing a hand over the crick in his neck. Not like he had passed out comfortably. He silently did a once over of his injuries. His fingers were caked in blood, the ones that had the unfortunate fate of meeting the man's teeth. _That is going to need to be looked at._ There were stains of blood on his shirt and neck. They were dried and sticky. Rick felt the pounding in his head and when he brought his fingers up to the sensation, they came away bloodied as well. And his jaw ached. Terribly.

  
“Well, look who's awake,” he heard to his left. The cheerfulness in the man's voice was enough to make Rick sick. “Have a nice beauty sleep, princess?”

  
Rick refused to answer. He stared out the window, feeling his heart rate pick up as he struggled to find some familiarity in the landscape. He was afforded no such comfort. He was broken away from the window when he heard the man shift and felt a heavy hand rest on the nape of his neck. Involuntarily, Rick flinched and tried to shrink away from the touch. He knew the man was smiling.

  
“ _Shit_ , Rick, I really did a number on your face, didn't I?” The man laughed and Rick fought the urge not to cry. Or lash out. “Oh, c’mon now, don't be angry. I thought I was being pretty generous not blowing your brains out, seeing as you bit me.” He heard the man chomp down, his teeth clacking together.

  
Rick started to say something, but stopped. He couldn't begin. What could he say? What was there to say? When that gun had been in his mouth, he was sure it was over. And he had made his peace with that, he was ready to let go. But he had to wake up back into this nightmare. He had to go on living with the knowledge that this man could hurt Carl, hurt Lori, his family. The fact that he was still breathing meant that he was a liability. And now, he was completely disoriented. The land outside the window was flat and plain and desolate. There were hardly any cars on the road. And hardly anyone to be seen. And Rick had no idea where they were. He felt his chest tighten at the hopelessness of the situation. He missed Carl. He wished he had never left. _God_ , he didn't even tell his son goodbye. What kind of father was he?

  
It was too much to bear.

  
“Can - can I…” Rick began. He struggled to find the words, he felt like a damn child who had been scolded. The hand on his neck, tightened its grip and Rick inhaled sharply.

  
“Ask, and you might receive,” the man said. The glee in his voice was unmistakable. Probably just glad that Rick had found his voice, after nothing but threats and empty begging came out before. Probably getting a kick out of Rick's pathetic state too.

  
“I -” the words felt like lead in his mouth, “can I please call my son?” _I miss him_ , was the unspoken truth tacked onto the end of his request. God, he really was pathetic.

  
The man laughed beside him and the sound scraped at Rick's insides, grating his nerves and working fear into his bones. He was learning that it was never a good sign when the man laughed. He wished he had never opened his mouth, tears forming behind his eyes as he curled in on himself.

  
“Daddy wants to call his boy, huh?” The man's voice was full of amusement. Rick felt his cheeks heat up. He wished he has never opened his mouth.

  
The two sat in silence as the man drove on, his hand remaining positioned on the back of Rick's neck, maintaining control. The tension in the air was palpable, it was suffocating. He could feel the smug sense of satisfaction and dominance rolling off the man in waves. His head was pounding, along with his heart, as he awaited the man's response. Of course, the man had no care for the amount of torture he was putting Rick through. Rick was sure the man got off on it. He glanced nervously out of his peripherals, catching the pleased smirk on the man's face. His tongue was poking out as he mulled over Rick's request; it was almost as if he was really considering-

  
“I think that's a swell idea,” the man concluded, his voice tearing through the silence like a blade. Rick released the breath he was holding, gasping quietly in relief as some tension left his body.

  
The man gripped Rick's neck tighter, his fingertips digging into already formed bruises, as he jerked Rick's head to the side; he winced.

  
“What do we say, Rick?” His voice was wrapped in barbed wire, sharp and dangerous, just like his baseball bat.

  
“Thank you,” Rick whispered. The grip on his neck relaxed.

  
“Anything to keep my baby happy,” the man chirped. Rick was going to be sick.  
The man pulled off to the side of the road, cutting the engine and locking the doors. It was quiet all around. And it was getting darker and Rick was getting worried. Was he actually going to let him talk to his son? Or was this another cruel, psychological joke meant to break him?

  
“First things first, we have some rules here,” the man said. In his hand was Rick's phone. “I decide who you get to call and when you get to call them, understand?” Rick nodded. “Rule number two, I monitor all your calls. Don't try any shit. You won't like the consequences.” Rick nodded again. “Rule number three,” the man held up three fingers for emphasis, “you follow the script I give you. If you go off the script, Lucille will have no problem going to town on your phone. That's bye bye phone privileges.” Rick nodded. “You get one call per day. Act up, and you don't get any until you behave. Are we clear?”

  
Rick nodded. “Yes, I - thank you,” he said quietly, head bowed. He didn't want to thank him, he really wanted to kill him, but he had to talk to Carl. He couldn't jeopardize his boy.

  
“You are quite welcome!” The man smiled and his dimples were showing and he almost looked kind, like he was glad to be doing Rick this favor.

  
He placed the phone in Rick's open, waiting palm, and replacedits absence in his own hand with the gun. He smiled down lovingly at it, then smiled over lovingly at Rick.

  
“Since its your first call, and I'm feeling generous, the script today is very simple. You can say whatever you want to Little Rick, except about daddy’s whereabouts. That's off the table.”

  
Rick nodded, eyes falling to the phone in his hand, his lifeline, his way of reaching Carl.

  
“I understand.”

  
“Good. Five minutes,” the man said. Rick swallowed down his nerves, eyeing the gun carefully as he hit the call button and listened to the phone ring on the other line.

  
_Please pick up, oh god, please pick up._

  
The ringing stopped. “Rick?”

  
It was Lori. And Rick was at a loss for words. He hadn't heard her voice since he found out about her and Shane and stormed out. He knew the man could hear her voice on the other end, he prayed he wouldn't see this as some kind of trick. His eyes settled on the gun once more.

  
“Lori,” he sighed. He heard the gun click beside him. “Where's Carl?”

  
“Where have you been, Rick?” Lori almost sounded upset, relieved even, but Rick didn't believe that she was. She had abandoned him, after all. “God, I've been worried sick, Carl won't stop asking about you.” Rick closed his eyes to keep tears from falling. “Where are you?”

  
Rick's eyes shot open, wide and fearful, as he cast a look over at the man. He was staring disinterestedly at the gun, resting his finger on the trigger, not meeting Rick's frantic gaze. He simply shook his head minutely and adjusted his grip on the gun.

  
“Lori, I just want to talk to Carl. Give him the phone.” Rick was running out of time.

  
“Where are you?” she repeated, this time more forcefully.

  
“Give him the damn phone!” Rick demanded, slamming his hand on the dash. He regretted it instantly, his torn fingers spurting fresh blood at the impact. He heard Lori sigh, but move away from the phone. He could faintly hear her calling for their son.

  
The man chuckled lowly beside him, his mouth forming a small “o” shape in amusement at Rick's sudden display of authority. His eyes caught the blood smeared across the dash and traded it back to the fingers that Rick was cradling in his lap. Rick followed his gaze and shifted his hand away. The man simply tilted his head to the side.

  
Rick heard movement on the other end of the line and immediately focused all his attention on the call.

  
“Carl?” he asked softly. He couldn't fight the feeling of hope blooming in his chest. _Please, god._

  
“Dad?”

  
This time, Rick couldn't keep the tears from falling. They tracked down his face and ran down his chin.

  
“Oh my god, Carl,” Rick cried into the phone, voice cracking.

  
“Dad, where are you?” Carl's voice sounded so small. “Y-you left.”

  
Rick felt his heart breaking. “I know. I know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

  
“Are you coming back?” Carl asked, his little voice resigned, waiting for rejection, but still clinging to hope.

  
Rick looked to he man; this wasn't part of the script. And everything within him wanted to say yes, to reassure his son, to tell him that he'd be home tomorrow and that he would never leave him behind ever again. But he had to play the game by the man's rules if he wanted to see his boy again.

  
“Tell him, ‘Daddy will be home soon’,” the man said lowly. “Use those exact words.”

  
Rick sighed. “Daddy will be home soon, don't worry.” The words tasted foreign and wrong on his tongue.

  
“Dad, please come home,” Carl said, his voice wet with tears. “Please, I miss you.”

  
“Oh, Carl, I miss you too, so much,” Rick replied vehemently. He had to make sure that Carl knew. “I'm sorry for leaving you. I'll be home soon and I won't leave you ever again. Do you believe that?” He had to make sure that Carl knew. He could never live with himself if he made his son hate him.

  
“Yes,” Carl sniffed.

  
“Wrap it up, Rick,” the man said, twirling the gun around between his fingers and Rick's heart sank.

  
“Listen, son, I've got to get going now, but I'll call you soon.” Carl whimpered and began to protest, but Rick softly went about reassuring him. “Don't you worry now, I need you to be a big boy until I come home, okay? Can you do that for me?”

  
“Okay, dad.” The line went quiet and Rick listened to Carl's breathing even out and his sniffles stop. It was enough just to hear his son breathe to calm Rick's racing heart. “Promise you'll come home?”

  
“Yes, I promise. I love you, Carl.”

  
“I love you too, dad.”

  
Rick heard Carl move away from the phone and was moving the phone away from his ear to hang up, when he heard Lori come back to the receiver. She had probably been sitting next to Carl the whole time.

  
“You know he cries for you at night,” she said, anger and accusation lacing her voice. “He cries himself into a fit, asking when you'll come home, and all you can tell him is that you'll be home ‘soon’? What kind of father just abandons his son?”

  
“What kind of wife abandons her husband?”

  
“Don't you try to spin this on me,” Lori spit back. “This is about our son.”

  
“I told you to wrap this shit up,” the man said, his voice raising a bit. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for Lori to catch some background noise.

  
“Are you with someone?”

  
“No.”

  
“Don't bullshit me, Rick, I heard a voice.”

  
“Maybe it was Shane.” He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Rick-” Lori tried, but Rick had already pressed the end call button. He slumped down into the seat, staring at the phone screen. He didn't feel any better; if anything he felt more empty than before. Hearing Carl's voice was too much. His chest ached and he could feel his heart breaking for his son.

  
“Well, _shi-et_ ,” the man cried, amused. “That was a hell of a soap opera. You have got one fucked up family there, Rick. Your kid sounds adorable though.”

  
“Don't talk about my son,” Rick barked, fixing the man with a dangerous glare. He didn't even second guess himself; worrying about the man's reactions was not a concern. Keeping Carl safe was the concern.

  
The man tilted his head, giving Rick a curious look. It wasn't threatening or menacing, just curious, as if Rick's demand hadn't been outrageous. Rick was thrown off by the look the man was giving him; he had expected an outburst and possibly another punishment. Instead, the man just nodded and said “sure” and extended his palm in a silent gesture for the phone. Rick complied.

  
The man started the car up again and they continued their drive into the night. The man fiddled with the radio, belting out songs that he liked, occasionally, and laughed at Rick's choice of CDs in the stereo. Rick didn't laugh along. And soon, it was so dark that there was nothing to be seen outside except for what was in front of the headlights. The suspense was weighing heavy on Rick. His fingers were throbbing, his head was pounding, and he had no idea where they were or where they were going. The man seemed to be in an agreeable mood; Rick decided to test his luck.

  
“Where-” he stopped to compose himself as his voice cracked, “Where are we going?”

  
“Don't worry your pretty little head about it,” the man said, smiling. “We're almost there.”

  
His heart rate picked up as he sneaked a look at the man. Rick tried again. “I'm just nervous.” It was all part of the game. He had to play the game. “I'm not going to try anything, I just - I'm just afraid. I don't know where we are. Please, could you….?”

  
“Darling, since you've asked so nicely, I'll give you a little nugget of information. We are heading to the desolate north!” The man laughed. Rick cringed. “We're a long way from Kansas. But there's nothing to worry about, nothing bad will happen to you, daddy will take care of you.”

  
Rick caught a flash of a smile and the man let out a pleased little chortle. And Rick couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised at the title the man had given himself. Yet another detail in the man's plan to break him. And Rick would be lying if he said he didn't feel worn out. He sighed, resigned to the fact that this was all the man was willing to give him; anything else and it would be asking for a punishment. So Rick nestled back into his seat and tried to ignore the pounding in his head.

  
They continued on into the night, taking turn after turn, until they were surrounded by trees; Rick didn't even have it in his heart to keep track of where they were anymore. It was a lost cause. His heart was aching for his son, it was all consuming and too much for him to ignore. They continued down a long, wooded, straight road until the road hit an incline and they appeared to be traversing up a mountain side. The back of Rick's head knocked against the seat as the slight pull of gravity held him. They drove on for the next ten minutes in silence. It was broken with a happy laugh from the man, startling Rick out of his daze.

  
“Here we are, sweetheart, your new home!” The man turned the car into the driveway, from what Rick could see, of a small cabin. Rick forced himself not to throw himself into another panic as he stared at the place in horror. They really were in the middle of nowhere.

  
The man slammed the door shut, jarring Rick out of his thoughts and moved to the trunk to retrieve the bags. Rick stayed put, as he didn't want to stir anger in the man. He hadn't been told to get out and heaven forbid if the man viewed it as a sign of disobedience. So he waited. Waited until the man had dropped their things inside and casually strolled outside, that god forsaken bat swung over his shoulder like it was nothing. He opened the passenger door for Rick, leaning down so that the two were eye to eye. The grin he shot him was feral.

  
“Come on, darling, let's get you set up.”

  
Rick felt his stomach lurch, but nodded anyway. He brought his legs out with intention of standing up, but his knees were unsteady from being in a sitting position for so long. He placed his hand on the dash to steady himself, not wanting the man to have any reason to touch him. Unfortunately, it was the hand that got fucked up, and the pressure he just placed on it made the pain renew itself, causing Rick to suck in a harsh hiss of breath as he cradled his fingers in his lap again.

  
He thought he saw the man wince - maybe it was the dark playing tricks on his vision - as he watched Rick's reaction to his injured fingers.

  
“And we can clean that up too.”

  
Rick just nodded again. Then he stood up and out of the car and followed the man in like a lost puppy.

  
The inside of the cabin looked like it hadn't been used in years. The furniture was covered in protective coverings blanketed by a decent layer of dust. The hardwood floor creaked under their footsteps. To the left of the entrance was a small kitchen area. It was fitted with an island countertop, three tall chairs, an oven with a stovetop, a microwave, and worn down cabinets. To the right of the entrance was a living room. There was a wood fireplace, a couch and a recliner leather chair situated to face the fireplace. A maroon colored rug with an intricate pattern weaved into it was at the center of the living room. That too was dust covered. There was a window in the living room, right next to the door. It had yellowed lace curtains hung up and a desk pressed in front of it. It also looked to be missing the latch to be able to lift it open. Directly in front of the entrance was the beginning of a hallway. There was a visible door - the master bedroom - then the hallway disappeared to the right, leading to another bedroom and a bathroom.

  
The man reached above them and pulled a light switch swinging from the ceiling. A bare bulb flickered on and Rick covered his eyes as they adjusted to the brightness.

  
“Now this,” proclaimed the man loudly, pointing the bat in front of him, “is the cellar.”

  
Before them was a door. It had three padlocks and a coded lock. Rick chanced a glance at the man, who was wearing a proud grin on his face.

  
“And this here cellar is where you will end up if you break the rules.”

  
Rick felt like he would be sick.

  
“W-hat, what are the rules?” Rick softly managed to stammer out.

  
The man barked a laugh. “I am so glad that you asked.” Rick swallowed hard, he didn't like the sound of where this was going. It seemed as though the man caught the worried expression on his face as he narrowed his eyes and poked his tongue out from between his teeth. The man leaned towards Rick and said lowly, “But we can save that for tomorrow.” And just like that, the man spun around on his heel and marched off down the hall. Rick took one more look at the cellar door, then followed behind the man.

  
Rick rounded the corner of the hallway to find the man reaching up to the top shelf of one of the cabinets in the kitchen. He had taken off his leather jacket and strewn it across the back of a tall chair seated at the island, leaving the man in a simple white tshirt and low slung jeans. Rick wasn't sure why he was staring, but it probably had to do with the fact that he wasn't sure what to do with himself, like he was waiting for the man to tell him what to do, where to go. He felt sick at what he had become, in such a short time, no less. He let out a heavy sigh, let his shoulders slump. It caught the man's attention; he spun around with a smile on his face and a small plastic box in his hand.

  
“C’mere, sweetheart, let daddy see that hand of yours.”

  
Rick hesitated slightly, but figured he had no choice, and shuffled over to stand beside the man. He didn't look him in the eye as he slowly held out his hand to let the man examine his fingers. The man, surprisingly gentle, fitted his hand underneath Rick's palm and pulled his hand closer to his face. He sucked on his teeth as his face broke out into another grin.

  
“Well shit,” he laughed. “I really fucked up your hand!” Rick didn't share the humor. “To be fair, sugar, you did take a nice sized bite out of my thigh. Not cool.”

  
Rick didn't say anything and the man searched his face for an apology. When Rick tilted his eyes up to meet the man’s, they were hard and cold, but he didn't speak. This made the man's grin falter somewhat.

  
“Now, I'm not sure I like the way you're lookin’ at me, Rick. Turn that frown upside down or you're going to make me very unhappy.” The man was still smiling, but it was by no means friendly.

  
Rick lowered his eyes again. He figured the man would view it as submission. It was really to hide the fire residing behind his eyes.

  
“There's a good boy,” the man said, no trace of the hardness left in his voice. “Now was that so hard?”

  
Rick shook his head. He nudged his injured fingers towards the man. He was so tired, he just wanted to be bandaged up so he could rest. The man chuckled at the gesture, and proceeded to disinfect the wounds, splint his fingers, then wrap them with gauze. Neither of them spoke.

  
After the man had finished, Rick's eyes were drooping heavily and despite his best efforts, he let out a yawn.

  
“Aw, is my baby tired?” the man cooed. He placed a kiss on Rick's injured fingers and flashed him a smile. “C’mon, it's been a long day, let's get you to bed.”

  
The man led him down the hallway once more, opening the door next to the bathroom. Inside was a twin sized bed, pushed up against the far wall, a dresser beside the bed, and a desk. There was a closet across the room from the bed; it was bare save for a dust covered jacket and a stuffed animal on the floor. A single window behind the dresser adorned the walls; it was also lacking a hatch.

  
“This,” the man said with a sweeping gesture, “is your room.” He fixed Rick with a dangerous smile. “For now.”  
Rick felt his stomach turn at the implied meaning.

  
“Make yourself comfortable, we’ll move you in proper tomorrow. Make sure you get some rest.” And with that, the man fixed Rick with a final predatory gaze before shutting the door and tramping down the hall once more. 

  
Rick let out a breath he hasn't realized he was holding, the tension seeping out of his body. He pressed his ear to the door, trying to follow the movements of the man. When he heard a door slam shut, the one to the master bedroom no doubt, Rick's knees buckled from beneath him and he slid to the floor, feeling disgusting and defeated. He felt his breathing pick up, verging on hyperventilating. Carl's voice echoed in his mind; tears tracked down his face. He cried himself into hiccuping sobs, snot mixing with his tears as he curled in on himself against the door. This was all his fault. He was in this terrible situation and it was all his fault. The thought made his chest ache and his head spin. All he had to do was listen to his instinct; he was the god damned sheriff. He had seen - no, he was too blind to see - what this man was from the beginning. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A charming smile and conversation was all he needed to fool Rick into ignoring his true nature, ignoring the problems he had run away from. And now he was in this situation, the kind of messed up shit that ends up on daytime tv and 60 minutes: “Man spends life in captivity after being drugged by hitchhiker.” Rick sobbed harder. He carried on crying, even after his eyes were no longer wet, sobs wracking his body as he held himself in his arms, trying to cease the tremors.

  
_“Are you coming back?”_

_  
“Daddy will be home soon.”_

  
Rick wiped the snot from his face with the back of his hand, heaving heavy sighs, in and out, trying to calm his breathing. _Yeah. I'll be home soon._

  
The night was quiet and soon enough, so was Rick. He was nowhere near calm, but he was quiet and that was enough. He stayed pressed against the door for what seemed like years, listening for the stirrings of the man. There was none. Not for a long while. And Rick knew what he had to do.

  
Slowly, he went to his knees, then to his feet, careful not to make the floor creak beneath him. He remained close to the door, ear placed against it. Nothing. Gently, he took the knob in his hand, turning it slowly. The door squealed as he opened it towards him; Rick felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. He paused, waiting for the heavy footfall of the man facing towards his room to reprimand him, beat him, fuck him. But it didn't happen. Rick cautiously peeked around the door, out into the hallway. It was dark. And it was silent. Rick took a step out. Then another and another until he was down the hall and into the main room; so close. He stood still, listening intently, gauging whether to return to his room and plead innocence, or to run. It was silent. And he had to run.

  
The keys - _oh, that dumb motherfucker_ \- were in plain sight, placed on the kitchen counter, illuminated by the moonlight, softly raining down from the skylight.. It was so divine, a holy sight to behold. Rick felt his heart beat faster again. He crossed the threshold of the hallway into the main room into the kitchen against the counter. The keys, cold against his palm, they were so divine. His savior. They were going to take him home.

  
_“Daddy will be home soon.”_ Yeah, Carl. I’ll be home soon.

  
Rick closed his hand into a fist around the keys, took a deep breath, and spun towards the door. He put one hand on the handle. Then a light came on. And the whole world stopped.

  
“And just where the _fuck_ do you think you're going?”

  
Rick turned, facing the man, situated in the living room with that damn bat propped up against the recliner he was resting in. How could I not have seen him? Oh shit, oh shit, oh-

  
“And here I thought we were off to a phenomenal fucking start, Rick.” The man stood, gripping the bat forcefully, swinging it from side to side as he stalked towards Rick. He wasn't smiling. The look in his dark eyes was murderous. “Here I thought, you were actually getting the picture.” Closer, closer, here he comes, closer. “Here I thought, you might actually have some sense up there in that head of yours.” Closer, closer, a sharp, mirthless smile, here he comes, until they were inches apart, the man ready to rain down bloody fucking murder on Rick.

  
“Bet you thought you were pretty slick there, huh?” It was rhetorical; Rick had lost his voice, lost his chance. He didn't speak. “I bet, you were thinking ‘Man, this guy is an idiot!’.” The man began to raise his voice. “I bet, you thought that you were just gonna walk right out of here and go hug your kid and fix your life, is that what you were fucking thinking, Rick?” Louder, louder, his voice was splitting Rick's head open. Rick faintly registered the bat colliding with the wall next to his head. But he didn't speak. He had lost his voice, lost his chance.

  
The man snarled at his silence, grabbing Rick’s face, shouting just centimeters apart, “Speak when you're spoken to!”

  
Rick was forced to look into the heartless eyes, seething with vengeance and malice and murder. Those eyes, what was this man capable of?

  
“I, I was - I…..” Rick stammered. He had lost his voice.

  
“Shut the fuck up,” the man growled, shoving Rick's head into the wall as he released the iron grip he had on his face. Rick let out a soft cry. He stayed pressed against the wall, watching as the man paced around in circles, swinging the bat so violently that the air howled, muttering to himself in his insane rage. Rick stayed still, waiting and watching. The man abruptly stopped his pacings and mutterings, another feral smile plastered on his face as he turned to look at Rick. Rick didn't speak as the man came closer and closer again, wrapping his hand around Rick's throat and squeezing as he pulled Rick to him, to his lips. So close they were sharing the same air, their lips almost together.

  
“You're bitin’ the hand that's feeding you, baby.” His voice was low and tender, not like it had been a moment ago, hard and vengeful. The man exhaled heavily against Rick's lips, pulling him ever closer by the grip he had around his neck. “Daddy just wants to take care of you.”

  
Rick heard the bat clatter to the floor; he felt the man's hand slide up Rick's shoulder, up to the base of his neck, taking a handful of hair and gripping it tightly. The gasp Rick let out was breathless and involuntary.

  
“Tell me you're sorry,” the man commands. His lips ghost against Rick's.

  
“I’m sorry,” Rick whispers.

  
“Again.”

  
“I'm sorry.”

  
“Again.”

  
“I'm sorry.” His voice hitches this time.

  
The man closes the gap between them, his lips covering Rick’s, biting, bruising, claiming, hurting. Rick whimpers and the grip in his hair tightens. The man pulls away, far away enough to look into Rick's eyes. A soft smile spreads across his lips; it doesn't reach his eyes.

  
“Oh, baby, you're gonna be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor rick, you'd think he'd have learned his lesson by now. daddy ain't no fool. 
> 
> thanks for all your comments, all your love, it means the world. until next time. 
> 
> ps: did you guys catch the lil reference to the show i threw in there?


	10. not a chapter! but an update

hi guys, long time no read. if you've been sticking around waiting for this story, I absolutely adore you - you deserve a cookie and a big hug. good news for all you loyal babies, I'll be adding a new chapter soon! I was very uninspired for a while, but I think I can get back into it.

also, an unfortunate truth, I deleted my original tumblr on accident, so now I've got a new one, @glitterprincee. if you guys could give it a follow, if you like steve/bucky or rick/negan, that would be really nice.

stay tuned for an update!!! see you soon. xoxo


	11. Rick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rick becomes acquainted with the cellar

The cellar was exactly as Rick had expected: cold, dark, molded. What he hadn’t expected, was the mildewed mattress shoved into a corner, covered with stains of dried blood, and other questionable substances. He hadn’t expected the tattered pink blanket, cast haphazardly across the foot of the mattress, edges frayed and crusted over. He hadn’t expected the bucket catching drops of water,  _ drip drip dripping _ from the ceiling. The monotonous rhythm of it was mind numbing. Rick figured that was somewhat the point. He hadn't expected the coils of chains lopped from the wall, attached to shackles - the sight made him nauseous. Perhaps, the cellar wasn’t what Rick had expected at all, really.

The man hadn’t released the claiming grip he had on Rick’s hair as he had dragged him down the corridor to the cellar door, the two of them stood at the top of the cellar steps, looking down into the dark abyss below. He shook Rick slightly, chuckling at the hiss of displeasure that escaped from between his lips.

“Now, now, baby,” the man crooned, right next to Rick’s ear. “No need to fret, everything you need is right down those steps. Wanna take a look?”

Rick turned his head to fix on the feral grin which had spread across the man’s face and willed himself not to panic at the sight. Nothing ever good came from a smile like that. Rick clung to his silence, hoping that the question was rhetorical, that the man would chain him up and leave him be; drawing it out made the pit in his stomach drop lower. It dropped even lower still when the man’s smile also faltered, a hard, demanding look gleaming in his eyes.

“If my memory serves me correctly, I told you, not even five minutes ago, to speak when you’re spoken to,” the man growled, dangerous and low. “Now is not the time to be makin’ me angry.”

Rick opened his mouth, finding it painfully dry, and lacking an answer. He shook his head, as best as he could, being trapped in the man’s iron grip, hoping that the nonverbal answer would buy him enough time to find his voice. The man jerked suddenly, pulling Rick flush against him, chest to chest, hip to hip, as his cold gaze bored through Rick. Placing a rough, proprietary hand on the small of Rick’s back, the man grunted as he pushed his arousal against him. Rick wanted to vomit. The pressure on his scalp lessened, so suddenly that Rick’s head snapped forward, only to be caught in a bruising grip on his jaw, the man holding him in place. He didn’t tell him what to do next, but Rick knew that he was meant to answer. With his words.

“I -” Rick started. What’s the right answer to a psychotic question that he doesn’t want, doesn’t know  _ how _ , to answer? “No, I - I don’t want to go...down there.”

The man stroked up and down Rick’s back in a tender motion - one could almost misread the gesture as  _ loving _ . 

“Oh honey,” the man whispered. His teeth glinted white in the slanted moonlight, falling over the both of them. “You are  _ so _ precious when you think you have a choice.”

With a sudden loss of contact, another dropped smile that wasn’t meant to be kind in the first place, the man shoved Rick, knocking him off balance. He tried to grab onto the railing, to regain his footing, but the railing snapped away from the wall and Rick went tumbling down into the dark. Rick hit every step on the way down, gaining more bruises to add to his growing collection; his head was pounding when he pressed it to the cold cement floor. The man laughed from the top of the stairs, a giddy, pleased sound that reverberated throughout Rick’s skull. 

“Str-ike!” cheered the man, beginning to stomp down the rickety cellar steps. 

Rick wanted to get off the floor, wanted to hide himself from whatever unpleasant thing might come, but he was immobile. The pain in his head caused his vision to swim, he could hardly tell up from down.

“That was one hell of a tumble, Rick! You hit your head pretty good on that last step.”

Rick raised a hand to his temple; it came away red. 

“C’mon, up you go,” the man gruffed, pulling Rick up by his upper arm, practically dragging him over to the little pallet against the wall. He tossed him onto the mattress, not caring that Rick landed on the metal shackles, thus creating another bruise, no doubt. 

The man moved to the side, jingling the chains in his hand. He looked down at Rick, who was looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. The man gave him a meaningful smile, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. The grin only widened as he watched Rick shift away from him, backed up into the corner, hugging his knees to him. The man simply pointed down at his feet; he knew that Rick knew what was expected of him.

“Pl-please,” Rick whispered. “Please, don’t lock me up. I’ll be good, I’ll stay put, please don’t -”

“Don’t care, Rick,” said the man, cutting him off as he looked down at the chains with a fond expression. “Can’t trust ya, you broke the rules, now I gotta take  _ extra  _ precautions.”

“I didn’t know the rules!” Rick spluttered, a bit of defiance creeping into his tone.

The man cocked his head to the side with feigned interest. “No you did not.” He paused, a contemplative look creasing between his brows. It almost made Rick hopeful, if he could still hold on to the meaning of the word; he should’ve known better by now. The man just shrugged, the looks slipping from his face as quickly as it had been put on, and said, “But you were _ stupid _ enough to try to run off, and honestly Rick, haven’t we already talked about that?”

Rick whimpered, shaking his head futilely. He didn’t want to be shackled down, didn’t want the man to touch him. He shot a glance at the stairs, leading up up up, and thought to himself that if he could  _ just maybe - _

Yet again, there was no hope for that either. The man bent down, towering over Rick even still, grabbed one of his ankles and yanked. Rick was dragged to the edge of the mattress like he weighed no more than a child. He wriggled a bit, trying to fight the man’s grip, but it was to no avail; the beatings his body had suffered over the last 48 hours were enough to render him useless. He felt the cool metal caress the skin of his ankle. He heard the clamp of a a lock clicking into place. Cool, clamp, lock, repeat, until his ankles and wrists were fully restrained and his stomach was twisted with dread. The man looked down on his handiwork with a satisfied grin. He patted Rick on the head, like he was a good pet; Rick recoiled, trying to move away, but there was nowhere to move to. 

“There we are,” chirped the man, a satisfied grin settling across his face. “Safe and sound. It ain’t so bad now, is it sweetheart?”

_ It is bad, this is so bad, _ Rick couldn’t stop the flood of anxiety mottling his thoughts and scraping up the inside of his throat. He hung his head in quiet shame, unable to meet the predatory smile looming above him. “No, sir,” Rick croaked miserably. “It’s not so bad.”

“What a good boy, seems like all you needed was just a little discipline!”

The man turned on his heel to the stairs, whistling a cheerful tune in harsh juxtaposition to the dark cellar. Rick flinched when the door slammed behind him. He couldn’t stop himself from shuddering with every lock that slid into place. The man’s footsteps slowly retreated down the hall until there was nothing to be heard but the sound of Rick’s labored breathing and the  _ drip drip drip  _ from the ceiling for company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, i wanna give a big thank you to everyone who's been staying with this story for so long, you've no idea how much it means. second thing is, unfortunately, i have fallen out of the walking dead fandom, so continuing with this story is difficult. to me, it seems like i can't get the characterizations right, and that will make the whole story fall flat. i don't want to give anyone false hope just because i've managed to update, it may be a while before i ever touch this story again.
> 
> that's where you all come in! if you want, comment some directions you'd like to see the next chapter go in, either on here or on my tumblr @glitterprincee. what do you want to read? it might help if i had some sort of further plot development. 
> 
> another option i've been considering is passing the remainder of this fic on to another writer who would be able to finish it for you all. if you know someone with a similar writing style who also enjoys this fic, please let me know.
> 
> happy reading to you all xxx


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